Going For The Hat Trick
by dipdipdipmyblueship
Summary: "Today was the best," he said smugly, "taking your factory. Hey, that means I've screwed you twice." Her eyes filled with tears; fear was making its way back across her features. He had her right where he wanted her. "You fancy going for the hat trick..."
1. Chapter 1

She heard a door open and slam shut.

"Peter?" a voice called out

Her eyes fluttered but she could not open them. She groaned in reaction to the searing pain that flashed behind them.

"Carla?"

Her mouth hung limply open as she tried to respond to the voice that called to her. Her mind began to race.

_Who was calling her? _

_Who was in the flat? _

_Why couldn't she move or respond? _

Panic set in as she tried desperately to remember where she was and what had happened to her.

Her limbs began to shake profusely, and it was in that moment that she realized that she was lying on some sort of carpeted surface; her cheek pressed into the cushioned yet not soft material beneath her face. She let out a cry of pain as she attempted to move; a intense and scorching burn pulsing through her body and rendering her utterly helpless.

"Did you hear that?" the soft male voice asked

"They're probably both drunk off their faces!" she recognized the second voice all too well, and a shudder coursed through her, "you should have seen them yesterday, fighting over that bottle of whiskey-"

"Leanne, please!" the male voice gently scolded the snappy blonde.

Carla let out another whimper as she tried to call out to them, and she heard soft footfalls enter the room where she lay prone on the floor…

…_wherever that was…_

"Granddad!"

Simon's scream coursed through her pounding head and ripped into her very soul. She tried to open her eyes but they refused to comply.

"Carla! Carla!" she heard Simon drop to his knees in front of her, his little hands reaching out and gently shaking her shoulder, "please wake up! I'm sorry!" he sobbed to her, his tears splashing upon her exposed cheek. She could only groan softly as the sound of two others footfalls pounded into the room.

"Oh my God!" Leanne screeched.

Her former friend lay awkwardly splayed, fully clothed, upon the floor next to the bed, beside the overturned side table. Dried blood had oozed and stained the carpet from a wound on the back of her head as well as from a hairline gash just above her right eye; her neck and wrists littered with red finger-shaped marks, and her leopard print blouse torn and hanging limply off her shoulders.

"Where the hell is Peter?!" Ken's voice boomed angrily as he crouched down next to Carla's head

"Why won't she wake up?" Simon asked as he sobbed

"Come on Si," Leanne called to him rather shakily, "Let's give Carla some air okay?"

Carla could hear as Simon was pulled to his feet, his sobbing protests becoming muffled as Leanne presumably hugged him to her

"Uh yes, an ambulance please!" Ken said into the phone receiver, his hand gently stroking Carla's matted and bloodied hair.

Leanne re-entered the room, "you don't think-" she swallowed the lump in her throat as she gazed down on the battered and bruised woman upon the floor, "you don't think that Peter's done this to her do you?"

"No," Ken quickly answered forcefully, his tone aghast at the very notion, "Peter would never lay a finger on Carla, especially not after what's happened to her…" his fingers brushed down to Carla's neck, deftly feeling a pulse. "Yes, we need an ambulance to 19 Rosamund Street. It's a flat above a bookie's," Ken covered the receiver with his hand, "Leanne," he whispered to her, "grab that throw over the chair, toss it over her and keep her warm. I'm going to go wait outside for the ambulance."

Carla felt Ken rise to his feet, and Leanne crouch down seconds later; a soft, warm fleece blanket was laid over her and she felt her fingers being grasped with an all too familiar hand.

"Hang in there Car, help is on the way," Leanne whispered, "please just hang on…"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Five hours earlier…**_

She squeezed her eyes shut as the memory replayed for the thousandth time in her mind. Her palms pressed into the granite counter of the kitchenette in the flat she had recently come to share with Peter…

_"I'd rather be an alcoholic than a rapist."_

_She had whispered the words venomously and tried to brush past him, only to be apprehended angrily. He gripped both of her arms and pinning them painfully to her sides, Frank pushed her forcibly against the railing behind her. The anger emulating off of him frightened her once more; his eyes darkening just as they had that night in September…_

_"I was cleared," he stated chillingly, "in a court of law."_

_"Wh-why can't you just admit it, eh? Is it guilt, is it shame- or are you just not man enough?" she pushed against him with a fierceness that surprised them both. But they both knew it was an act, and he could see through it, her body was trembling beneath his grip, and he was enjoying every moment of it._

_"Ooo now she's challenging my masculinity?" He taunted her; he wanted a fight out of her. He meant what he said to her just days after her mother died, when he finally managed to gain her trust, 'all women are resistible when they're incapable.' He wouldn't want her if there wouldn't be a struggle. He wanted a fight; he wanted her to resist…_

… _and he wanted to dominate her._

_"Oh I wanna hear the words come out of your mouth!" She gritted her teeth willing the tears not to fall, as she pushed against his hold on her again._

_"Which words Carla? Which words?" he patronized her. "I raped you?" He watched her blink back the tears, hope clinging desperately to her features and he smugly gave in, "I raped you." He confirmed it, watching the relief wash over her beautiful face, "__**I. Raped.**__**You. **__There's your confession." His grip loosened on her arms before tightening again, as if massaging them in loving reassurance; his desire for her was reaching its peak, and yet he still wanted to break her down further, "Now does that make you feel better, only I did feel bad about it," he watched as her eyes softened, "-for a little bit." He heard the soft whimper involuntarily escape her lips. "But you betrayed me, and it was your fault."_

_At this she pushed angrily against him as if to hit him and run, but he had the upper hand as always, his strength rendering her weak and helpless as his grip tightened on her arms; "No, no, no, you should know by now, you picked the wrong person to fight with." The anger behind her eyes was evident, but he could still see that she was frightened of what he could possibly do next, and he craved that emotion like a drug; he __**needed**__ her to fear him again._

_"Today was the best," he said smugly as his arousal grew, "taking your factory. Hey, that means I've screwed you twice." Her eyes filled with tears; fear was making its way back across her features._

_He had her right where he wanted her._

_Pressing in close to her so she could feel his arousal, his arm snaked down around her waist and he lowered his voice to a seductive yet threatening register, "you fancy goin' for the hat trick?"_

_He chuckled as he felt it; she had become paralyzed with fear again; her body trembling violently as if knowing what was coming. Letting out a shaky breathe she glanced over to the bottle beside her and he smirked at her futile attempts. But as his hand creeped further down her body and hovered above her thigh, she felt a rush of adrenaline course through her veins. With a strength she didn't know she possessed, she pushed him off of her and ran down the steps of the factory._

"_I'll take that as a raincheck then shall I darling?" he laughed after her, "See you soon Carla!" He shouted warningly as she pushed her way out of the main doors._

Unable to stand upright any longer, Carla exhaled and dropped her elbows onto the counter, allowing her head to fall into her hands. Her fingers gently grasped her hair as her heart continued to pound erratically in her chest.

Tonight had been too close of a call. _'What were you thinking going back there alone, you stupid cow?'_ her conscience chastised her. In her heart she knew the answer, she just needed to hear him say it; she needed him to admit once and for all what he did to her. But even as the words flew past his lips, she felt no gratification. No satisfaction. He had smugly got away with his assault on her, managed to turn the whole street against her: the _'homewrecking slut'_ who cried rape the night before her wedding. He then tortured her in the factory for weeks after the trial; his eyes undressing her in the office, his body close enough to touch her, and the whole time he was scheming to swindle her out of her business, a feat he achieved with his record smugness earlier this evening.

Underworld: the last memory of Paul and Liam that she had desperately clung to since their tragic deaths, was now _his_…

Frank Foster.

That man has been nothing short of a nightmare since setting foot in her life.

The whistle of the kettle brought her back to the present; with a sigh of frustration, she opened her tear-filled eyes and moved to remove the kettle from the heat. She poured the boiling water into her mug, watching absent-mindedly as the tea bag puffed and rose to the surface; its leaves inking the water below it.

Placing the kettle back down she glanced at her mobile again. There was still no word from Peter, and she was too terrified to make her way over to Ken and Dierdre's to inform them. She hugged the mug between her palms and looked towards the window. It was still dark out; not that she expected it to be light at three in the morning, but she wished for daybreak to come sooner rather than later and bring with it her lover and confidante who was probably passed out in a drunken haze on a park bench somewhere.

Her mobile vibrated and she grasped at it hurriedly, her breath hitching in her throat.

_Where are you?_

_M_

The words flashed upon the screen with such urgency she couldn't help but chuckle at imagining her best friend's voice behind the words she must of frantically typed. Still holding her mug in one hand, Carla began to type a response to Michelle when the buzzer to the flat pierced the silence around her. She hurriedly dropped the mobile on the counter with her mug, and pressed the receiver to her ear

"Hello?" she asked timidly.

She could only hear a grunt in response.

"Peter?" She asked with a sudden rush of hopefulness. She was met with another drunken grunt and assumed he had lost his keys; she pressed the buzzer to allow him access only to be met with a broken sound. She hung up the receiver and opened the door, quickly descending down the steps to the main entrance.

Her hand grasped the knob of the door and she paused almost instantly; she felt a small twinge of hesitation deep within the pit of her stomach; a small flicker of apprehension, as if alerting her to danger.

Something wasn't right…

She let go of the handle and took a step back just as a key slid into the keyhole.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the sound; only Peter, Ken, and Leanne had a key besides herself. She felt her body relax ever so slightly until the door swung open and she found herself stood face to face with _him_…

Her eyes wide with panic, she quickly tried to force the door closed but he shoved back, edging his foot into foyer and giving a sharp push, causing her to fall against the wall behind the entrance. He stepped around the door and slammed it closed, his eyes glinting and his lips turned up in a sneer

"Where is it Carla?" Frank spat angrily

Her brow furrowed in confusion, "w-what are you talking about?"

"Don't play games with me!" he shouted, his gloved hand reaching out and grasping a fistful of her hair. Her hands flew up to her scalp as he viciously pulled her towards him. He yanked her hair down, forcing her terrified eyes to look into his wild, angry ones. Leaning in close so his lips grazed her cheek he lowered his voice to a whisper, "you never learn do you?"

Her eyes filled with unshed tears and she willed every muscle in her body to cease its quivering

"F-Frank I don't know what you're talking about?"

"You hard-faced cow!" he sneered, flinging her forward and watching as her head cracked upon the edge of the fourth step. His eyes not leaving her, he reached over and turned the padlock, hearing the satisfying click of the door locking.

She could see nothing but little black spots before her. She shook her head slightly in an attempt to remove the fuzziness but was hit with a sharp pain that wracked her whole skull. Her fingers gingerly reached up to the step above her and she tried meekly to pull herself up.

"Carla, Carla, Carla" Frank tutted her mockingly, "just tell me where it is and we'll forget this ever happened."

"W-where…w-what…is…?" she groaned between gasps

"Alright my dear," His voice took on a sinister tone, "don't want to tell me willingly eh?" She felt her whole body begin to tense, her muscles now pulsing with tepid energy as she heard him edge closer to her prone form, "well, I'll have to think of another way to make you talk…"

With a grunt, she kicked her left leg back, feeling it connect just below Frank's pelvis. He let out a cry of pain and doubled over, letting out a sigh of relief that she had caught him just above his family jewels.

His eyes darkened with a sick pleasure as he watched her scramble up the stairs on all fours. With an evil smirk he reached out, grasped her ankles and yanked hard, glaring in satisfaction as her head again connected with the edge of the step above her right eye as she slid back down the stairs towards him.

Her body lay motionless as he peered over her shoulder. With a snicker, he wrapped his hands around her, twisting her until he could scoop her up into his arms, and he carried her up the stairs and into the flat, closing the door behind him.

He took a moment to glance around the flat, noting with obvious disgust, its humble set-up and modest furnishings. Carla stirred in his arms, slowly awakening from her unconscious state as he walked to the small hallway beside the kitchen and into the bedroom on the right. Her eyes began to flutter open as he laid her upon the bed, turning back to close and lock the door behind him.

She rolled her head from side to side, noting the plush softness and coolness of the pillow beneath her pounding head. She blinked furiously in an attempt to focus her vision.

"So this is your new home is it Carla?" Frank's gentle voice coursed through her body, sending it aflutter with tremors. "Not quite the posh set-up you're accustomed to is it?" he chuckled tauntingly as she tried to regain her wits, "never thought you'd like to slum it my dear, but then again, you do have a knack for surprising me, don't you?"

Her head lolled to the side, her unfocused eyes pinned on his form as he stalked towards the bed. She could feel the blood trickling down her face from her hairline, and as she took in her surroundings she began to panic at her vulnerable state.

"Please Frank," she begged hoarsely, "please just go, I won't tell anyone-" she was cut off as his gloved hands pinned her wrists on either side of her head.

"Won't tell anyone what, Carla?" he taunted her, "do you honestly think anyone will believe a heartless, homewrecking cheat and slag over me?"

She bit her lip as her eyes gushed with unfallen tears, and Frank sighed, "come on, just tell me where it is Carla and I'll leave you to your pathetic life with your alchy boyfriend and your tacky little flat."

"P-please Frank," she begged as she desperately tried to quell her racing heart, "I-I don't know what yo-you're on about!"

He sighed as he gazed into her terrified eyes, "then I guess I'll have to find a way to torture it out of you hey?" One hand began to slide down her body as he leaned in close to her face

"Time for that raincheck darling," he whispered sadistically, "what better way to score my hat trick eh? In the bed that you share with the 'love of your life'."

'_Oh no you don't_,' she thought as an almighty rage she thought was long since gone sparked inside of her, and she wrenched her wrist free and rolled quickly off the opposite end of the bed, her hands steadying herself on the mattress as she sneered at him, trying to overcome the dizziness overtaking her

"Go to 'ell!" she spat viciously,

Frank chuckled as he slowly moved around the bed, stalking towards her, smirking as she struggled to stand upright, "I am so glad a piece of that feisty spirit of yours still remains, Carla. It will give me such utter satisfaction when I **_break you_**," with the last words he sprung forward, his fingers grasping around her throat and shoving her back against the side table; her hands knocking the lamp off of it as she tried to steady herself, but Frank was too strong; her back pushed painfully into the wall and she was forced to sit awkwardly on the table as he stood between her legs. Her hands flew up to his, trying to pry his fingers away from her neck, but he tightened his grip, leaning in close to her face.

"You stubborn little slut!" he shouted, "I've won, Carla. When it comes to owning you, I'll _always_ win!" He leaned in, pressing a bruising kiss to her lips. Panicking and slowly losing consciousness to his grip on her neck and the wound to her head, she pushed against his chest, her leg coming up to rest on the frame of the bed. Using every last fibre of strength she had in her, she pushed her foot against the frame, hoping to gain enough momentum to twist her body from his, and off the table.

_And that's when everything went wrong..._

Her foot, unable to grip to the frame, slid along it. The force she used behind her desperate push causing the table to lurch and topple forwards. Frank was barely able to keep his grasp on her as she slid with the table, the back of her head colliding with the edge, before she rolled onto her side upon the carpet unconscious.

Frank stared down at her, quickly checking her pulse and noting she was breathing. He had to get out of there, _now_!

He made his way out to the living room before stopping. With a smirk he turned back to the bedroom and crouched before Carla's unconscious body, using his fingers to rip her leopard print blouse open and shimmied it down her shoulders. He may not have been able to achieve his hat trick, but as long as Peter Barlow believed that he did, he would surely come after him. And when he did, Frank would have him arrested and banged up for assault, and then there would be no one in his way when it came to Carla.

He gently tucked her hair behind her ear, before exiting the bedroom and the flat. Finding the contract could wait until tomorrow.

Watching this unfold would be far more fulfilling...


	3. Chapter 3

"Come on Si, you've got to eat something love," Leanne gently coaxed the young boy while they sat with Ken in the cafe. She kept glancing out the window towards the bookie's flat, which was now swarming with police cruisers and curious street bystanders. She had felt it best that Simon not go into school following what they had stumbled across in the bedroom that she used to share with Peter that morning, hoping it would put his mind at ease, but the young lad continued to simply stare at his plate, his eyes continuously filling with tears and his lower lip quivering.

With a crooked smile, Leanne reached over and caressed her step-son's head, "talk to me Si," she tried again, "you can ask anything you want, you know that."

Simon took a moment, exhaled a long breath, and without looking up, finally spoke; "it's my fault," he sniffled, "I know it is."

"Simon, what do you mean?" Ken prodded gingerly

The young boy's lips began to quiver more prominently, "it's cause I lied about Carla hitting me, and because I told dad that I hate him."

"No Si, that's not why-" Leanne tried to reassure him

"It is! I know it is! I didn't want to be nice to her, because then I was afraid you wouldn't come back. She's not that horrible really, but I still acted like I hated her. And if I had been nicer then maybe dad wouldn't have drank-"

"What makes you think your dad was drinking Simon?" Ken asked, already knowing the answer

"I heard mum saying it," Leanne looked guiltily up at Ken as Simon continued, "she said they were fighting over a bottle last night."

Ken looked at his former daughter-in-law and shook his head disapprovingly, "Simon," he began tenderly, "I know what you must be thinking about your dad, but he has had a very rough couple of days and the temptation to drink was just too much for him to handle-"

"But why did he have to hit Carla? I don't want him to go to prison!" Simon whimpered

"Simon," his grandfather reached over and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, "your father would _never_ hit Carla. He would do anything in his power to protect those that he cares about-"

"So then where is he?" Simon dropped his head into his folded arms upon the table

"Look Si," Leanne stated softly, "why don't you go up and buy yourself a nice treat yeah? Your granddad and I will try to get in touch with your dad again, okay?"

Raising his head, Simon sniffled and nodded. Running the back of his hand under his nose, he reached out and accepted the money Leanne handed to him and headed over to the counter.

"Leanne this has got to stop," Ken scolded her firmly, "this talking about Carla and Peter in front of Simon is just manipulative! No good can come of this."

"Well it wasn't intentional," She replied defensively

"It never is," Ken shot back, "but the way you and Peter are acting is childish and selfish! Peter cheated on you, but let's not forget that you did the same to him just over a year ago. You're both as bad as each other but you cannot go around using that poor child as an emotional battering ram! I will not have it anymore Leanne, I'm warning you now."

"I know," Leanne responded quietly, her head lowering to the table, "I don't know…Ken, I despise Carla for what she's done to our friendship; stealing my husband, moving into the flat…" she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, "but then, when I saw her lying there on the floor, looking like someone tossed her around like a rag doll, I just- I just couldn't breathe for a while there. I couldn't help but still see her as my best friend, you know? The one who survived Tony's attempted murder-suicide plot,-"

"It was shocking to say the least," Ken whispered with a shudder, "do you think someone forced their way in last night?"

Leanne shook her head, watching as Simon walked past them with his cake, climbing into one of the chairs at the cafe window, "the police said there was a key found just beyond the door. So whoever it was had access to the flat."

Ken furrowed his brow, "but the only people who have a key are you, me, Carla and-"

"-and Peter." Leanne finished, her eyes probing Ken's apprehensively

Ken shook his head, "No Leanne,"

"Ken, you and I both know what he's like when he's drinking," Leanne tried to reason with him, "Maybe it was an accident! I mean, with everything falling down around his ears and me threatening to take Simon, he might of lost his temper and lashed out-"

"No!" Ken whispered forcefully, his fist pounding on the table for emphasis, "Peter has made a lot of mistakes in his life Leanne, I'll attest to that, but my son would never hit a woman I know that for a fact!"

"Dad!" Simon's voice shook them out of their conversation in time to see the young lad drop the cake he purchased and exit the café hastily from his place at the cafe window

"Si!" Leanne shouted after him, as her and Ken quickly followed Simon out onto the street.

"Peter!" Ken called to his son, who was staggering slowly outside of Streetcars. Peter turned to the voice, his eyes closing in frustration at the lecture he would no doubt be receiving. As he faced his father, he found himself stumbling back as Simon launched himself into his arms.

"Si?" Peter hugged his son closer in confusion, "why aren't you in school?"

"Peter, where the hell have you been?" Ken hissed at him.

"Oh look dad," Peter began dismissively, his hand coming up to massage his pounding head, "just spare me the lectures yeah? Not now. I have to find Carla, get a cup of coffee down me throat, and see if we can't sort this factory business stuff out."

"Peter-" Leanne began

"Oh and here comes the cavalry," Peter mocked, his hand rising and falling back to his side for effect. He turned his blazing brown eyes back onto his father, "just had to bring her along didn't you? For what eh? Moral support? Let me know how disappointed you all are in me?" his lip turned into a sneer, and he moved in a little closer, "well I hate to burst your fun bubble but I already have a pounding headache, and I don't fancy a nagging one an' all."

"Peter you don't understand-" Leanne tried to interject but her ex had already turned his back on them, his eyes falling upon the flashing lights of the cop cars outside his flat. Panic overtook him and he whipped back to face his father and ex-wife.

"What's happened?" he asked, "where's Carla?" he pressed more forcibly

"She's at hospital," Ken responded somberly, "taken there by ambulance not an hour ago."

"Hospital? Why?" Peter could feel his heart beating erratically in his chest, "is she on her own?"

"She's not on her own, Michelle's gone with her." Leanne responded, her eyes flicking between Peter and her step-son, who remained clinging to his father's torso, "she was still unconscious when they left."

Peter shifted his gaze onto Leanne, his eyes becoming hard and accusatory, "what did you do?" he ground out, his tone low and dangerous

Leanne snorted defensively, "Me? I did nothing but make sure your lover stayed warm while the ambulance were on its way!"

"Wait," Peter shook his head in confusion, "you were in the flat?" at Leanne's sideways glance to Ken, Peter felt his anger rise, "_**what the hell were you doing in my flat?"**_ he shouted angrily

"Oh but it's not just your flat anymore is it?" Leanne shouted back, her back now well and truly up, "it's yours and _hers_ now eh? Never mind all of the memories that _we_ had in there as a family-"

"Oh don't start this again," Peter snapped, "you have no business being in that flat anymore Lea, and I'll be damned if you think you can just come and go as you please!"

"Well it was a good thing I did happen to come and go today though isn't it? Si forgot his schoolbook, and I called and called but no one was answering the phone. So Ken and I decided to head in ourselves to see what kind of a state the two of you were in to not answer the bloody telephone while our Si grabbed his books!"

"Why did you do it dad?" Simon asked quietly, pulling the adults from their heated argument

Peter dropped to his knees and grasped his son by the shoulders, "do what son?" he asked him softly

"Why did you hit Carla?" Simon sobbed

Peter felt his heart lurch in his chest and bile rise in his throat, "what?" he whispered in horror

"Why did you hurt Carla? She never hit me! I'm sorry I lied! I didn't mean to be so mean to her, I'm sorry. I'll try harder to be nice to her I promise!" his son continued to cry softly

Peter couldn't believe his ears, "Simon, you don't think I would-" he couldn't piece together the end of the sentence, his thoughts were ricocheting off his very skull; _Carla was battered? In their flat?_ It suddenly dawned on him; that bastard Frank Foster was sure to have been behind it all. But for some reason, Peter couldn't remove himself from where he remained just outside the café; caught in a battle of wills with his ex-wife. He needed to project some of his anger onto her, after all had she not returned back to the street Simon would have eventually come around to Carla, and she wouldn't have felt the need to sell up the factory to her rapist!

His eyes again met Leanne's and he shook his head angrily as he rose to his full height, "This is all down to you isn't it?" he accused her furiously, "You just couldn't stay away; couldn't leave well enough alone. Are you so desperate to take my son off my hands that you will convince him that I beat up my girlfriend?"

"You are unbelievable!" Leanne shouted at him, "Your son came up with that conclusion on his own after seeing Carla unconscious beside your bed, and your dad and I have been sat there trying to convince him otherwise ever since!"

"You are a piece of work you know that?" Peter ground out

"Enough!" Ken shouted at the two of them, "stop your petty bickering for goodness sake!" his eyes glared into his son's, "Carla is in the hospital right now possibly fighting for her life and you're here making ridiculous accusations?"

"Mr. Barlow?" a voice sounded from behind them and Peter hurriedly turned to face a stern looking officer,

"Yes?" He responded, gently prying Simon off of him and pushing him into Ken's welcoming arms.

"Are you the Mr. Barlow that lives at 19 Rosamund Street?" the officer asked

"Yes I am." Peter responded, desperately wishing his hangover away

"And you live there with…?"

"My son here, Simon, and my girlfriend Carla Connor."

"And when did you last see Ms. Connor?"

"Last night. My ex-wife came into the flat to have words and Carla left."

"And you didn't see her after that?" The officer asked pointedly, his eyebrow raising curiously

"No, I didn't. Please can you tell me what's happened to her?" Peter pleaded

"Would you mind stepping over here with me for a moment please sir?" the officer asked, gesturing his arm to where two detectives stood patiently waiting.

"Yeah of course." Peter responded as he walked towards them, Ken, Leanne and Simon close behind

"Mr. Barlow I'm Detective Stopher," the older of the two men introduced himself, "and this here is Detective Gregory," he gestured to the younger man on his right, "Can you tell me where you were earlier this morning around 3:00 am?"

Peter shook his head in embarrassment, "I uhhh, I don't know?"

"You _don't know_ where you were?" Detective Gregory reaffirmed, as he busily scribbled away on the pad he was holding.

The bookie shook his head, "no, I uhh, I'm a recovering alcoholic you see, and I fell off the wagon last night-"

"Are you prone to violence whilst drinking Mr. Barlow?" Stopher questioned methodically

"What? No, not at all-"

"Then why did your son think you were the one who assaulted Ms. Connor?" Gregory asked sharply

"Oh come on now," Peter scoffed disbelievingly, "he's a kid, he's scared and confused. His imagination has just run away with him that's all-"

"Mr. Barlow could you do us a favour and give us your flat keys?" Gregory interrupted him

"Why?" Peter asked in utter confusion

"Just procedure, Mr. Barlow." Stopher responded rather snidely.

"Okay," Peter grumbled as he began searching his pockets, "look could you at least fill me in as to what's happened? I only just got here and I'd like to get over to the hospital and check on my girlfriend as soon as."

"All in due time Mr. Barlow," Stopher said. He watched as the bookie anxiously checked his pockets in frustration, unable to find his keys. "Problem, Mr. Barlow?"

"No uhh," Peter exhaled deeply, "I must have lost my flamin' flat keys last night."

"Oh I'm sure they're around here somewhere…" Stopher responded pointedly

"How do you mean?" Peter asked

"Is this your key Mr. Barlow?" Gregory asked, holding up a small silver key

"Well it looks like it, but where's the rest of my keys then?" Peter asked in sheer confusion

"We were hoping you could tell us Mr. Barlow," Gregory responded before nodding to Peter's hand, "and while you're at it, do you mind explaining where you got those cuts across your knuckles from?"

Peter could suddenly see where they were heading with this and took a defiant step backwards, "oh no," he stated shaking his head, "you're not trying to say that I did this to her?" Their lack of response further fueled his defensive state, "You're crazy, the both of you! I love her I would never hurt her! This is down to that lying bastard Frank Foster-"

"Mr. Barlow?" Stopher began slowly, "could you kindly remove your jacket?"

"What? Why?" Peter's brow furrowed apprehensively

"Please remove your jacket sir, now!" Gregory ordered him

The bookie let out a sigh of frustration and slid the jacket off his shoulders. A collective gasp was heard around him, and his eyes were drawn down to the blood staining his white shirt.

"Oh my God," Leanne choked out, her hand flying up to her mouth to halt the sob that threatened to pass her lips.

"Peter-" Ken whispered hoarsely

"Peter Barlow," Stopher began as he approached the shocked bookie, "I'm placing you under arrest for the suspected assault of Carla Connor-"

"No!" Peter shouted shaking his head, "no this is all a big misunderstanding-"

"You do not have to say anything-" Stopher continued as an officer grasped Peter's wrists and twisted them behind his back

"No I'm telling you, you've got the wrong man!" Peter shouted

"-But it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court-"

"Dad," Peter called to Ken as he was slapped into handcuffs and dragged back towards a cruiser, "It's Frank! This is all down to Frank! Find a way to prove it please!"

"Anything you do say may be given in evidence-"

"Leanne, please!" Peter begged, "please you know I didn't do this!" His ex simply stood there watching him, her eyes brimming with tears as she took in all that just occurred

"Do you understand?" Stopher finished as Peter's head was pushed down into the cruiser.

As the car began to pull off down the road, Simon pulled free of his grandfather's hold, breaking into a run and shouting for his dad as the car disappeared out of sight. He felt two arms wrap around him and broke down sobbing in the street in his step-mom's arms.

And just across from them all, leaning up against the side of Audrey's salon…Frank watched on with amusement. This was going better than he could have possibly imagined...


	4. Chapter 4

Michelle apprehensively hugged her arms around her abdomen as she walked slowly down the hallway of the hospital she'd been in for the past four hours. She stopped just outside the intensive care room she had been looking for and peered through the window. Raising her hand to her mouth, she began to nervously bite her thumbnail as she observed the woman, her sister-in-law, that she had come to deem as her best friend.

Carla was barely recognizable when she was wheeled into the room an hour ago following all her tests, and it had nothing to do with the scratches and bruises that coated her exposed flesh. No, it was her eyes; they seemed so dead, so vacant. She had never seen Carla look that way before and it worried her to no end.

Carla lay in the bed just beyond the glass, her head turned from Michelle's scrutinizing gaze. She was hooked to an IV; her arms and head were littered with scattered gauze bandages, which were successfully soaking up the blood that oozed from various wounds.

The doctor had filled Michelle in on the extent of her injuries: Carla had suffered a third-degree concussion, two gashes to her head, the hairline gash above her eye needed stitches, the one on the back of her head, luckily, being superficial and shallow but sitting above a substantial bruise. She had multiple contusions to her body, two bruised ribs, a bruised sternum, and, they feared, a possible sexual assault. The CT scan showed no signs of brain damage luckily, but he wanted to keep an eye on her for the next couple of hours to ensure she did not have a poor reaction to the painkillers she was put on.

Michelle covered her mouth as she tried to suppress a sob. Her eyes, so red and raw from crying earlier, now began to overflow again. She had held Carla's hand in the ambulance the whole way to the hospital, her eyes taking in the semi-conscious form of her best friend, but her injuries somehow did not look quite as bad as they did right now.

_Twice_ her best friend had been raped.

_Twice_ in six months.

And by the same man - no, no, not a man - by a monster. A vicious, vile, evil incarnate monster...

...and somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, her subconscious was snidely reminding her of whose fault it was this time around.

She had been desperately trying to reach Carla following her own confrontation with Frank in the factory. A confrontation where she had feigned an attempt to reason with him in order to access the office in the hopes that she could find something, anything, that could thwart his devious plans to turn the factory she had come to love into a warehouse.

She knew she only had mere moments when he went to take a call on his mobile, and she couldn't believe her luck when she saw the contract peeking over the side of his briefcase as it lay upon the desk. She had deftly pulled it out and let out a sigh of relief at realizing it was the original. Folding it as small as possible she shoved it in her purse, and emptied her desk of the few pictures of Ryan, her brothers and Carla, and walked as calmly as she entered out of the factory doors, being sure to throw a snarl at Frank as she did so.

She had sent texts to Carla the moment she locked herself in her flat. She needed to warn her to steer clear of Frank in case he should find the contract missing without saying so in a text or call that could be traced back to her. But Carla didn't answer her texts…not one of them. She assumed Carla had her hands full trying to sober up a very drunk Peter, and so she decided to head to bookie's flat the very next morning to decide, together, what to do about the contract.

But when she arrived to see ambulances and coppers flooding the street, her deepest fears took complete control of her senses, and she pushed her way through the number of police officers who tried in vain to halt her as she barrelled up the stairs to the flat, calling Carla's name the whole way up.

When she saw her best friend being lifted onto a gurney, she knew it was Frank who attacked her yet again, and this time she knew it was because of something that _she_ had in her possession.

_'__Frank must have assumed it was Carla that took them papers,' _she thought, _'but how? Carla didn't go back to the factory that night.'_ Michelle's brow furrowed as her mind began running through various scenarios. _'or did she?'_

Taking a deep breath, Michelle wiped the tears from her cheeks and opened the door to the hospital room. Upon hearing the noise Carla slowly turned her gaze to rest upon her sister-in-law.

"Hiya," she croaked, flashing her a crooked smile, "I think the 'ospital staff are gonna make this me own personal room," she joked half-heartedly

"Carla-" Michelle whispered as she approached the bed, knowing her best friend was trying to laugh off the seriousness of the situation

"Mind you, the amount of times I've been in 'ere since September…" Carla continued, now avoiding Michelle's sympathetic eyes, "not exactly surprising is it?" When she finally looked back to her, she narrowed her green eyes in frustration, "don't look at me like that 'Chelle."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm some poor cow-" her voice cracked and she furiously wiped at the tears that managed to escape her eyes.

"Hey," Michelle grasped Carla's fingers with her own and squeezed gently, "I'm looking at my _best friend, alright?_ And I'm remembering why I love her so much-," Michelle sniffled and Carla followed suit, her barriers beginning to break down, "and admiring how strong she is, and how much I wish I was just as brave as her!"

"I'm not strong 'Chelle," Carla whispered, "not really; but I can't let him break me again."

Michelle offered a reassuring smile before becoming serious, "Carla," she began tentatively, "the doctor says you won't submit to a rape kit, and that you're refusing to speak to the police about what happened." At Carla's nod, Michelle pressed her quizzically, "Why babe? You have to report him-"

"There's no point, Michelle. I don't think he got that far anyways," Carla said, her eyes closing for a moment, "not for lack of trying any road…"

Michelle felt a rush of relief befall her, though still not entirely sure she was being told the whole truth, "he didn't…?" at Carla's head shake she furrowed her brow, "how can you be sure? You were spark out when Simon, Ken and Leanne found you?"

Carla shifted uncomfortably, "it umm," she used her hand to awkwardly gesture towards her pelvis, "it doesn't feel like it did last time." she whispered, her eyes pricking with tears that she blinked back.

"Okay," Michelle sighed, "but Carla, surely there might be some DNA of his on you? If he even tried to and didn't get the opportunity, it's worth getting the kit done, just in case."

"Oh, why should I?" Carla snapped aggressively "Michelle, he had gloves on, he got in with a key, there were no forced entry. He didn't actually rape me this time, I have no proof but my word that he attacked me." She sighed, "I had all the DNA evidence in the world against him the last time: I had the bruises, I had his skin under my fingernails, I had his…" she looked away, angrily brushing the tears that fell down her face with the back of her hand, "it didn't make a damn bit of difference in the end, did it?"

"Okay, I understand Carla, but if there's anything on you that could convict him…"

"No Michelle!" Carla snatched her hand away, "Do you have any idea how invasive getting that kit done is?" She sighed and looked up to the ceiling, "I sat in St. Martha's just a couple of hours after he attacked me, and even though they said they wouldn't do anything without my consent, it were like I was being violated all over again for those four hours while they poked and prodded me. While they took measurements and photos, and collected samples of everything. I'm not going through it again alright?" her eyes met Michelle's and she shook her head, "I can't," she sobbed

"So what are you going to do then? Eh?" Michelle asked, "just let him walk around and not pay for what he's done to you?"

"Of course not!" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, "Look 'Chelle, he was looking for sommit when he came to flat. Something he thought I had," Michelle felt her stomach flip guiltily, "maybe some client contract or something, I don't know but I sure as hell am going to find out."

"And what about Peter?"

"What about Peter?" Carla asked bitterly, "I've been here worried sick about him, as I was all them hours until Frank burst into the flat, that he were laying dead in a gutter somewhere; and if he's even alive, or conscious for that matter, he certainly hasn't shown any interest in my whereabouts. I've brought nothing but misery into his life, he's probably glad to be rid of me..." Her voice broke as the words came out of her mouth

"That's not true Carla; Peter's been hauled to the station," Michelle said

"Eh?" Carla's brow furrowed in horror

"The police think he was the one who did this to you," Michelle told her sympathetically, "According to Ken, he didn't have his keys on him and he had blood all over his shirt when he arrived back at the flat this morning. And because Simon was the one who found you, he thinks his dad got angry and hit you and that it is his fault for making up those stories about you."

Carla dropped her head in her hands, "Oh God no," she felt sick at the idea that Simon found her all bruised and bloody, "that poor kid. As if he hasn't been traumatized enough."

"So you see Carla you have to go to the coppers and give DNA evidence to prove it wasn't Peter-" Michelle tried again

"Please just go 'Chelle," Carla whispered feeling so overwhelmed, and unable to wrap her head around the events of the last twelve hours.

"Car-"

"Just go 'Chelle!" Carla snapped bitterly.

Reluctantly, the brunette rose from beside her best friend and left her on her own. Once in the hallway, she began to pace the corridor for almost an hour; her tired brain pounding as she thought of a way to confess to Carla that she knew what Frank was looking for, and it was she who nicked it from his briefcase, whilst also convincing her to go to the police.

"Michelle!" The voice caught her off guard and she spun in time to see Leanne rushing down the hall followed closely by Steve.

"What's up?" Michelle asked, curiously taking in their ashen faces

"It's-" Leanne began as she drew in oxygen into her lungs

"It's about Peter," Steve stated, placing a reassuring hand on Leanne's shoulder

Michelle's hands flew up to her hair, "oh no, has he been charged?"

Leanne furiously shook her head, "no, he has," she took in a gulp of air, "an alibi."

"What? Who?" Michelle asked, her eyes darting from the blonde woman to her ex.

"Howard. His mentor, from his support group." Leanne explained, "he was stood outside the bookie's, wondering if Peter was around. He apparently turned up at his house last night, three sheets to the wind. He got into a fight with some passerby and Howard had to pull them apart. That's where the blood on his shirt came from. Howard forced him to stay on his sofa all night, and that's where Howard found his flat keys late this morning; they had fallen between the cushions of the settee."

"Oh that's a relief," Michelle sighed, "So where is Peter now?"

"Still at the station," Steve responded, "we just dropped Howard off to give his statement and I drove Leanne here before I head back to pick them up." He nodded gingerly towards the bed on the other side of the window, where Carla lay on her side, her back towards the glass, "ummm how is she?"

Michelle let out an exasperated breath, "Not good Steve," she glanced back to where her best friend lay, "she's kicked me out of the room. She won't submit to a rape kit, and she refuses to press charges against Frank."

"So he, you know-" Steve trailed off rather embarrassed, "-again?"

"The doctors suspect he did, based on the bruising and her ripped clothes. But Carla says she's sure he didn't, but I don't know if she's just trying to keep it to herself. I tried to convince her it was the right thing to do regardless, but she got angry and chucked me out."

"I don't blame her Michelle, those kits can be very invasive. I remember when our Toyah had it done…" Leanne trailed off, she sniffled back her tears and stood up straight ,"Did she say why he attacked her again?" she asked gingerly

"Again? Oh," Michelle turned bitterly to her, "so you believe her now do you? After going around the street saying she made the 'ole thing up?" Leanne lowered her gaze guiltily as the brunette took a menacing step towards her, "between you, your mother and Frank telling anyone who'll listen that she's a lying, homewrecking slut, why do you think she's not pressing charges eh? Or telling anyone what _actually_ happened for that matter?"

"Look, I know you're upset Michelle," Steve stated, trying to diffuse the situation, "believe me I want to rip the guy to shreds meself for what he's done to her," he wrapped an arm around his ex's shoulders and pulled her close to him, "but this is where you all need to band together to help Carla through this and hopefully get that bastard put behind bars where he belongs!"

Michelle let out the breathe she was holding, her eyes overflowing with tears once more, "I know, I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I'm just so worried about her. She's closing herself off again. I'm afraid she's gonna do sommit daft-" Steve shushed her gently as he wrapped her in an embrace, his chin resting softly upon her head

"Michelle," Leanne said quietly, "believe me when I say that I'm really wanting to help her now. I'm sorry for being such a cow to her but come on, you can't really blame me can you?"

"To a degree I can..." Michelle trailed off, "but it takes two to have an affair Leanne, as you know well enough from experience."

"Look, I want to help. In any way I can, honest I do."

"I better go collect Peter from the station," Steve whispered, reluctantly pulling away from his ex, "he'll probably want to come straight here so keep me posted okay?" At the brunette's nod, he planted an unexpected kiss on her forehead and headed down the hallway.

The two women stood staring at each other for an awkward moment before both turning to gaze through the window.

"So what's the plan then?" Leanne asked

Michelle shrugged, "try to get her to open up."

"Any ideas on how?" the blonde prodded

"I'm open to suggestions…" Michelle trailed off hearing a sound from the hospital room, where it looked as though Carla had fallen back asleep.

She and Leanne looked through the glass where the machines next to Carla's bed had begun to beep profusely. They both gasped as Carla's eyes flew open, and she struggled to take in a breath; her eyes were wide and fearful, and her fingers clutched the sheet beneath her so tightly her knuckles were white.

"Nurse!" Leanne screamed, running to the desk, as Michelle ran into the room, "Nurse!"

"Car," She whispered to her, her fingers reaching under and clutching her palm in hers, "please Car, listen to my voice, don't panic…" she let out a sniffle, her face scrunched up to stop himself from crying, "you're safe here, everything's fine."

She felt two hands pull her away from the bed, and forcing her back outside of the room with Leanne. Michelle leaned up against the window, her palms pressing into the glass beside her head, her eyes flooding with tears as she watched them place an oxygen mask over Carla's mouth and nose.

"Her heart rate's increasing steadily…" the nurse called to the doctor

"She's going into shock," the doctor stated, watching the machines as they beeped away, "Prepare a sedative for her drip, and get another blanket over her."

"Ms Connor?" He reached out to her, his hands gently prying hers from the mask she tried to tear off, "Carla? I need you to breath slowly, alright? In through your nose, out through your mouth. You're having a panic attack, you are perfectly safe here." Her eyes settled on his, and she tried desperately to take in another breath, "breathe in with me, Carla. Inhale-2-3-4, hold-2-3-4, exhale-2-3-4-5-6-7-8, good! Let's do that again now," he looked to the nurse, "where are we on the sedative?"

"Administering sedative now," the nurse responded, pushing a vial into one of the tubes leading to the IV in Carla's hand.

The doctor looked back to Carla, "I can't discharge you Carla, if you are in the midst of a panic attack, so I need you keep breathing slowly. Get that heart rate back to normal for us," he watched the monitors beeping

"Inhale-2-3-4..."


	5. Chapter 5

Peter took a long drag from his cigarette as he dropped his head into his palm. His elbow balanced gingerly on his thigh and he swayed softly back and forth on the sofa he had flopped down on since arriving back from the police station. After a prolonged minute, he finally exhaled the smoke through his nose and pursed lips.

He had a cracking migraine. This had to be one of the worst hangovers ever to strike him in recent years. And yet the throbbing pain in his head was nowhere near as excruciating as the one that resounded deep in his chest.

He had let her down...

Again…

_His Carla_.

He could not get his head around the events of the night before. She had been attacked again by that smarmy animal. Attacked in the middle of the night, alone, and left to fend for herself after everything that had already happened to her that day. Left by herself to once again fight off Frank Foster, the same evil beast who had already crushed her mentally, physically and emotionally just months earlier…and all because the man who promised to protect her from that monster, had been too selfish to resist his own temptation to booze.

He didn't know the extent of her injuries, and Steve wasn't saying much after he picked him up from the station. All he would tell Peter, was that Carla would be discharged within the hour and that Maria was at the hospital to drive her and Michelle back to the street.

He took another drag of his cigarette and reached over to flick the ash onto the provided tray. _'How did Frank manage to get into the flat in the first place?' _He thought frantically, _'surely she wouldn't have just buzzed anyone up at that hour without checking who it was first.' _The police had said something about a key being used and dropped just inside the main door. They had run tests to lift possible prints off the key but it had been expertly cleaned; besides Frank most likely wore gloves, Peter concluded. Not that it should surprise him: that bastard was always one step ahead of him.

But even if Frank had managed to get in the main entrance, there was no sign of forced entry upstairs. Carla would surely have bolted _that_ door. Despite her attempts at appearing strong to those around her, she was still relentlessly paranoid. She continued to jump at loud sounds and would often lock all the doors in the flat before going back, sometimes two or three times, and ensuring that they were still locked. She must have thought she knew who it was to open the entryway upstairs…

…she must have thought it was him stumbling home drunk!

And the thought made him sick to his stomach.

"Whew, sorry for the delay! Got side-tracked on the way back from me apartment. I take it Dev didn't give you too hard of a time in giving you Michelle's spare key then?" Steve asked as he entered the apartment,

"Nah, Michelle called him from the hospital and gave him the heads up that I'd be poppin' round." Peter answered despondently as he puffed out another bout of smoke.

"Ahh, I see," Steve acknowledged quietly, "Well, here you go mate!" he chucked one of his button-down shirts beside the bookie, "sorry if it doesn't fit properly, but you know, hopefully them coppers will let you back into your flat and allow you access to your own gear later tonight eh?"

"Yeah," Peter responded softly his voice low and hoarse, "my flat. Yet another place filled with traumatizing memories for Carla eh?" he raised his eyes to lock on Steve's, whose brow was furrowed in sympathy, "yet another _home_ stained and tarnished by that…-that animal."

Steve pursed his lips and shook his head. Not knowing what else to say, he sat down next to his friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He glanced around the flat, "well maybe Michelle will let you guys crash 'ere for a few days; that, or I'm sure Deirdre and Ken will put you all up until the dust settles."

"Me dad's already offered to keep Si for the night, and I'm going to stay wherever Carla wants to." He whispered, stubbing out the end of his cigarette, "This is my fault Steve."

"Peter-"

"I should have been there for her last night! I should have been in that apartment, holding her in my arms all night long and comforting her. But instead I decided to get drunk because of what that bastard tried to do to my business!" Peter shook his head in frustration and massaged his forehead with a shaky hand, "I was so wrapped up in my anger towards him and this whole stupid mess with Leanne and me son, that I forgot that Carla's 'ad it a million times worse from everyone around 'ere: Sitting in that office day in, day out with the man that raped her after being called a liar in court; being harassed on the street by her neighbours and 'friends'; my son giving her the coldest shoulder I've ever thought possible and making up lies about her hittin' him because he, like everyone else 'round here, blames her for the break-up of my marriage; she then gets conned out of her factory…her business…her everything. And that very night, because he obviously _still _wasn't satisfied with the damage he's already caused, Frank breaks into our flat and batters her." He took a deep and shaky breathe, his head now clutched between his hands and his fingers deftly gripping his hair, "And now…God, now I can't stop the images bouncing through me mind right now. I feel so helpless, you know? I don't know how much she's been hurt; I don't really _know_ what else he did to her in there Steve," he swallowed the lump forming in his throat, "I don't even know for sure if he ra-"

Steve gave his friend's shoulder a reassuring squeeze as the hunched over man let an involuntary sob escape his lips. After what Michelle had told both him and Leanne just a couple of hours earlier at the hospital, the cabbie wasn't sure himself if Carla had been assaulted by Frank the night before. He couldn't bring himself to tell Peter either way though; not only because he didn't feel it right to be the one to break it to the bookie that his girlfriend may have been raped again by the same man and was refusing to admit it to anyone, but he also did not want to tell him as a way of _protecting_ him. Even knowing what little Steve did know - that Frank broke into the flat and physically apprehended Carla in enough of a rough way to leave her injured and bruised - would send his friend into a murderous rage that would probably result in Frank Foster's body being found mangled upon the factory floor. And while Steve felt in his heart that the bastard would deserve nothing less than a good throttling, it wasn't worth Peter getting banged up for assault…not for his _or _Carla's sake.

Peter pursed his lips and exhaled a slow steady breath, "But I just have this horrible feeling, in my heart Steve," he whispered, "in heart and in my gut, that he raped her again last night. The bastard thinks he's untouchable, and I want nothing more than to strangle the life out of him with my bare hands," he clutched his hair tightly between his trembling fingers,

"Yeah, but you know that won't help mate." Steve said softly

"Oh I know," Peter agreed, sitting up and taking slow controlled breaths to quell his racing heart, "so I have to fight my natural instincts, and resist the urge to wipe that smarmy look of his face with my fists. No, from now on I need to put Carla's needs before my own. I can't ever let him touch her again, I can't. I'm never going to let him or anyone else hurt her again; not now, not ever."

Steve nodded his head, "I think that's exactly what she needs right now Peter: someone who's going to be there for her, be a tower of strength for her-"

Peter chuckled and a smile crept across his face, "that's what she called me in court you know, '_a tower of strength'_," he sighed, "problem is, I don't feel strong Steve. She's the strong one. She amazes me every day."

"She certainly is," Steve agreed with a smile himself, "she were always strong; kept her feelings hidden from everyone including her sister-in-law, never showed her vulnerability to the world for anything. At least not until September; that was when she finally started to show the cracks in her spirit," he picked up the shirt next to him, "which is why I reckon she's gonna need you more than ever right now. This incident last night, whatever happened, will 'ave just chipped away at those tiny cracks and made 'em bigger. So you need to get changed, and clean yourself up a bit. She doesn't need to see you looking as though you slept in the gutter last night, or that you're suffering from the 'angover from hell…even if you are." He handed Peter the shirt, "go on then, and I'll fix us a brew."

"Cheers Steve," Peter mumbled appreciatively pushing himself to his feet and heading to the bathroom.

* * *

He emerged some time later, upon hearing voices in the stairwell, in time to see Carla, Michelle and Maria enter the flat. He felt his breath hitch in his chest as he watched his girlfriend, the woman he had come to love more than his own life, slowly make her way towards the sofa. She was wearing a pair of leggings, legwarmers, an oversized shirt, and a pair of trainers; a far cry from the sky high heels and glam clothes she normally wore. Maria walked directly behind her, her fingers gently grasping onto Carla's elbow and carrying a small duffle bag in the other. After aiding Carla into a seated position she placed the bag next to her on the sofa and turned to Peter, "The coppers only let me into the flat to pack a few clothes for Carla, but I rummaged through some of your drawers as well and grabbed a few bits in case you wanted changin' an' all."

"Thanks Maria," Peter smiled affectionately as he moved to sit next to his girlfriend. He looked over his shoulder to where Michelle stood by Steve, nervously biting her thumbnail, before focusing his gaze back on the woman he loved. "Car?" he whispered gently, his hand coming up slowly to stroke her hair, "baby I-" he shook his head, unable to form the proper words. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she finally turned to look at him. Despite the small smile she offered him, she looked so worn; so emotionally beaten down. But as his eyes roamed her beautifully pale face, he was taken aback by the lack of bruises marring the flesh. If she was battered as the police say she was, it certainly didn't seem so on the surface. Other than the gash and subsequent bruising just beneath her hairline, which had been stitched up and bandaged with a square of gauze, her face remained virtually untouched.

The same could not be said about her neck. Red blotchy marks lined both the delicate skin beneath her jaw and the gentle curve of her collar bone.

Right then and there, Peter started to suspect that she had been raped once more.

The very idea once again caused his stomach to churn, and he lowered his eyes to look upon her arms, immediately biting back the bile that threatened to push past his lips; her wrists were once again littered in the same bright red marks as her neck. It was like looking at a picture of her from last September. Small patches of dried blood were scattered among the bruises, no doubt from scratches that cut too deeply into the fragile skin from her attacker's fingernails.

He watched the way she was held herself, her arms wrapped about her chest and abdomen, and he squeezed his eyes shut; the movement triggering his tears to now fall freely down his cheeks.

He couldn't believe he let it happen to her again.

He bit the inside of his lip, determined to pull himself together for her sake, when he felt her soft but cold fingers deftly brush the tears from his cheek. His own hand reached up and grasped hers within his; opening his eyes, he blinked rapidly until she came into focus. Her lips were tugged into a half-smile, her eyes gleaming encouragingly at him. He couldn't believe the strength in her as she sat there wordlessly reassuring him instead of the other way around. He was in total awe of her, and exhaling deeply he gently and lovingly pecked his lips to her fingers over and over again.

"Did she uhh, you know?" Steve asked Michelle gingerly as he gestured towards Carla.

Michelle shook her head, "no," she whispered dropping her thumb from her mouth, "no she still wouldn't submit to a rape kit, or press charges."

"What?" Peter questioned in horror, his eyes darting between his lover and her sister-in-law, "Car?"

"I didn't submit to a rape kit Peter," she answered hoarsely, "and I'm not pressing charges against Frank."

"No!" Peter stated angrily, "no this isn't right," his voice began to rise as he stood up from the sofa and looked around for anyone to back him up, "no, no, no you need to go back down there or to a referral centre-"

"No Peter-" Carla responded her eyes closing in frustration

"**_Carla I will drag you down there myself if I have to_**!" Peter yelled in anger. He softened his stance when he saw her recoil from him, her body beginning to tremble profusely. Running a hand through his hair, he took a deep breathe and sat down close to her, "baby, please listen to reason; you can't let him get away with this-"

"Peter!" She raised her voice as high as she could, her eyes closing in frustration, "He didn't rape me last night, and I am getting really fed up of having to repeat myself about that."

Her voice was hard and cold, a tone he was not familiar with when it came to his Carla. But when she opened her eyes once more, locking them desperately on his, he could suddenly see the fear behind the green orbs, "I'm not going through a rape kit again when _nothing happened_" she whispered shakily, "please understand that I-I won't survive going through it all over again."

Her lower lip quivered and he immediately wrapped his arms around her, his heart shattering in his chest at the way she tensed beneath his touch. They had come so far in recent months. She was only beginning to feel comfortable in her own skin once more, even if was only fractionally, and it seemed now that for the one step forward they had accomplished, they'd been flung ten steps back again.

"Okay," he whispered as he pressed a kiss to her temple, "okay, it's alright. We'll do whatever you think is best okay? I'm sorry, baby I'm so sorry!"

"Look," she said, her hand shakily coming up to run through her hair, "I know you all think I'm lying but I'm not. I 'ave no reason to. He didn't rape me. He definitely threatened to, twice: once in the factory and back at the flat. He threw me around and he probably would have succeeded in his 'hat trick' as he called it, had I not fallen off that table and been knocked unconscious. He probably made it look like he assaulted me to make you think he did, so you would go after him…" She shook her head, her tongue darting out across her top lip, before locking eyes on the bookie, as he raised his hand to cup her cheek. "He was after sommit Peter," she whispered, "he were lookin' for sommit he thought I took."

"Like what?" He asked her as he pulled away from her slightly, "what could it have been?"

"I don't know," she sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead comfortingly, "I don't know what he was on about, he wouldn't tell me."

"Maybe it were just an excuse Carla," Maria piped in softly, "maybe it were just his way of trying to blame what he attempted to do to you _on you_ again."

"Yeah," Carla nodded her head timidly, "yeah maybe."

"No it wasn't." Michelle stated shakily, feeling suddenly nervous as all eyes turned to her, "he **_was_** looking for something. Something he needs," she swallowed hard as her eyes locked on her sister-in-law's, "something that was taken from his briefcase last night…"

"'Chelle?" Carla's voice cracked as her heart beat quickly in her chest, "what are you on about?"

Exhaling the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, Michelle reached into her purse and pulled out a folded roll of papers, "the contract," she started uneasily, "the one that you signed, selling him your shares of Underworld for less than half of their worth? I took it last night."

Carla reached out and snatched the papers from Michelle's hand, a look off disbelief and anger playing about her face as she flipped through them.

"Carla I am so sorry! I tried to warn you, I were calling but-, and I never thought he would go after-, God I am so, so sorry!" her best friend's sobs were muffled as Steve drew her in for a comforting hug

"Baby?" Peter whispered as he watched his girlfriend's face relax, her fingers quickly flicking through the document, her lips twitching into a smirk as she found what she needed.

Carla raised her eyes from the paper where her signature was etched in ink, a slow leisurely smile spreading dangerously across her face, "Peter?" she stated evenly, "you don't by any chance have a lighter around do you?"

"Yeah, why?" the bookies asked as he pulled out the lighter from his pocket

Carla's eyes, alit with mischief, now locked on Michelle's, "Oh I were just thinking that we could do with a good ol' fashioned contract burning, what do you reckon?"

"Oh aye, I'm always up for one of them, me" Maria smirked, her arms folded across her chest,

"Shall I do the honours?" Steve asked holding out his hand and gesturing to the papers that Carla now clutched to her chest

"Don't you dare," she teased, "this pleasure shall be all mine!" She rose from her seat painfully slow, and grasped Michelle's hand in hers, giving it a thankful squeeze before continuing on to the sink.

"Be a dear 'Chelle and get my coat eh?" she called out as she ignited the flame

"Why? Where you going?" Michelle asked slightly horrified

"Just about four o'clock," Carla responded, "the machinists should be getting off soon," she held the papers up in front of her eyes, smirking as the flames licked up and set the corner of the contract alight. As the fire doused the papers in flames, she dropped it into the sink and turned on the taps before throwing a look after her shoulder, "wouldn't want them to miss the show now would we?"

* * *

Frank sat in the office in Underworld, thoroughly pleased with the events of the last 24 hours. He allowed the workers to come in for a final shift to finish their remaining orders, relishing in being able to tell them all that they needn't bother coming in the following day. Even though he didn't have the contract, he was also satisfied that Carla didn't know about its strange disappearance either.

He spun leisurely in her chair, still able to make out the sweet smell of her bodywash and perfume as it lingered on the leather. He closed his eyes in ecstasy as he remembered almost taking her again the night before.

He admired her spirit though; she still had that spark in her, even as she battled to stay conscious from her head wound. She was though, once again, easily overpowered, and he delighted in the sound of her pleas as she tried to reason with him, and that defiant glint in her eye when she had surprisingly twisted free of him and told him to go to hell.

He licked his lips subconsciously; there was no doubt that he still wanted her, desired her…

Taking her in her lover's bed would have been the ultimate punishment. She would of no longer been able to stay in that flat without being plagued with horrid memories of the ordeal. But perhaps just knowing it almost _happened_ would drive a wedge between her and Peter, and when the time was right, he'd swoop in and pick up the pieces. Maybe take her somewhere far from Weatherfield and that damned bookie.

She'd learn to love him…he would make sure of it…

"Getting rather comfortable aren't we?" her soft voice pierced through the office, strong and determined and not at all what he was expecting in the slightest.

He opened his eyes slowly, and a lustful grin spread across his face.

There she stood, **_his_** Carla; bruised, worn out, pale, defiant…_beautiful_.

"Carla, Carla, Carla," he tutted softly, his eyes roaming her from head to toe, purposefully ignoring the fact that both Peter and Michelle stood protectively on either side of her, "Those are some nasty looking injuries," he chuckled evilly, "I do hope you're not letting your boyfriend push you around too much. Then again I wouldn't be surprised; after all, I always reckoned he wouldn't know how to really _handle_ a woman like you darling."

Despite his best attempts at remaining calm, Peter snarled and took a menacing step forward only to be stopped by Carla's arm thrusting out in front of him.

Frank smirked at his success at getting a rise out of his nemesis before his eyes again locked onto the object of his desire, "So, to what do I owe this pleasure, Carla?"

"Just came to collect my stuff Frank," she stated nonchalantly, "and to call some clients in order to tie up some loose ends."

"Well collect your things if you must but as far as the 'loose ends' goes, you are no longer allowed to access _my_ client list." Frank stated smugly as he rose from his seat, relishing in the involuntary step back she took at his sudden movement. "Whatever is the matter Carla? Did you see a ghost?" he whispered maliciously

Carla simply pursed her lips, and furrowed her brow in mock ignorance, "I think you'll find that I do have access Frank; according to the contract you drew up, I have 48 hours to wrap up any loose ends." She smirked slightly as his jaw twitched, "we can check the contract again though, to be sure…" she flashed him a grin, her ears picking up on the whispers and gossiping of the machinists just outside the office door.

Frank attempted to recover himself, "no need for that," he stated dismissively, "do as you wish, but make it quick eh?"

He attempted to walk around to his side of the desk, but Carla brazenly stepped in his path, "actually," she stated challengingly as she crossed her arms over her chest, "You know, I think I'd like to see the contract again, you know just to be on the safe side. Oh and while you get it, you can get me a copy of it an' all. You seemed to 'ave forgotten to do that yesterday in the midst of your gloatin'." She moved deftly to the side and sat gingerly in her chair, casually throwing her legs up on the desk and ignoring the pain that tore through her injuries.

"Alright, enough," Frank ordered evenly "I want you out of here now. This is trespassing."

"Is it?" She challenged him as Peter and Michelle smugly moved to stand on either side of her, "because sommit tells me, and it is just a _little_ naggling voice in the back of me mind, mind you;" she smirked ferally, "but it's telling me, that this place," she gestured upwards with her fingers, "is still _mine_."

"You're deluded." Frank stated

"Am I? Let's see the contract then Frank, eh?" The smile faded from her face, and she pinned him with a penetrating stare, "go on Frank, I know how much you'd love to just 'put me in my place'…again…" her voice dropped to a dangerous tone, her eyes glinting wildly under the office lights, "…here's your chance…"

"Okay, I've had enough of this." Frank shook his head angrily, "If you and your entourage are not gone in the next two minutes, I'm calling the police."

Biting her lip, Carla swung her legs down from the desk and reached across the computer. Picking up the cordless receiver, she dangled it tantalizingly in front of him,

"be my guest Frank…"


	6. Chapter 6

"Look, I can't go into much details girls," Michelle stated with a sigh, removing her eyes from the standoff in the office to the machinists all huddled around the sewing machines, "and Sean, alls I can say is, Carla came in to tie up some loose ends and asked to see the contract, but Frank wouldn't show it to her, or provide her with her own copy. That's when Carla got suspicious that Frank doesn't have it-,"

"What like he misplaced it or lost it?" Izzy asked in confusion

"Lost it, or it was stolen, more like," Sean stated, his arms folding over his chest and eyeing Michelle with a smirk.

"You reckon?" Beth asked intrigued

"Whatever happened to it, is not our concern right now okay?" Michelle interrupted them, "Frank's called the police to have them arrest Carla for trespassing, but if he can't produce that contract…" she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders and pursing her lips knowingly

"-then this place still belongs to Mrs Connor?" Hayley asked with a jubilant glee

"That's right Hayley." Michelle smiled

"And that means we all won't be out of a job?" Julie asked hopefully

"If this place remains in Carla's hands, then you can pretty much guarantee you'll all be in tomorrow for work as usual." Michelle responded

"But what about the contract?" Julie asked, "I mean," she lowered her voice to whisper, "we all know she signed it last night."

"Do we?" Sean asked mischievously

"Yeah, I don't seem to recall hearing anything about Carla signing over the factory to Mr Foster," Fiz chirped in with a smile

"I certainly don't remember anything about a contract," Eileen piped in

"Same here," Izzy said with a smile.

"Well you all don't have to stay if you don't want to," Michelle addressed them all with affection, "you can head to the Rovers if you like and I'll fill you in when we know more."

"Are you kidding?" Beth screeched, "Leave now and miss the fireworks? I don't think so. Hey, Hayley be a dear and make us all a brew eh?"

Michelle snickered as Hayley rolled her eyes and marched towards the kitchen.

"This is your last chance Carla," Frank said turning from the window where he watched Michelle address the machinists, his voice dropping to a low and sinister register, "the coppers will be here any minute. Leave with what little shred of dignity you have left, eh?" His lips curled into a smirk as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair; an involuntary shudder causing her body to tremble as she subconsciously ran her fingers over the fresh bruises on her wrist.

"Oh I'm not going anywhere Frank," she whispered rather shakily, her eyes finally raising to meet his, "not while I still have that gut feelin' that this place is still mine, or sixty percent of it I should say." Her own smile tugged at her lips, "and that means, I'm _still_ the boss."

"This place is mine Carla, and you know it! You signed the contract, the deal is done and I will not give this up without a fight," Frank's eyes shifted to the bookie who was sitting protectively next to her, his own eyes boring into the businessman, "After all, I always get what's mine in the end. Isn't that right Carla?" He whispered maliciously as his gaze shifted back to the woman he desired.

Her eyes became damp with unshed tears.

_Fear_.

He had instilled it into her very soul.

For all the bravado she had put on earlier - marching into the office and demanding to see the contract-, she really couldn't deny that she was deathly terrified of the monster before her. He had shown his dominance over her twice now; had almost ripped everything away from her in the wee hours of that cold March morning just as he had done that fateful September evening. And yet again, he had done so in a place where she had once felt safe; a place that would also now become tainted with horrid memories and brutal nightmares; a place where the walls would forever echo her pleas, the sounds of her battered body hitting the stairs and the floor of the bedroom, and his cruel taunts…

"If you're so confident then why all the dramatics with the coppers? Just show us the contract Frank," Peter said hoarsely from next to her, his hand gently squeezing her own in reassurance, "show us the paperwork and we'll leave you to it." Frank's eyes dropped to where Peter and Carla's fingers interlaced lovingly, his jaw twitching enviously and his lips pressing together in frustration.

…an action that did not go unnoticed by the bookie…

Pulling himself from his seat, Peter perched on the arm of his girlfriend's chair. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tucked her trembling form into his chest. "In fact," Peter continued to address Frank, "show us the paperwork and we'll leave you all to it," he lifted Carla's chin with his fingers so that she was now gazing into his tender yet mischievous eyes and smiled warmly upon her, "won't we love?" he cupped her face with his palm, his thumb gently running circles along her cheek, "we'll pack up and start away from here; just you, me and Si. Get one of them nice little Victorian-style houses-,"

"-sommit with character-" Carla whispered, deftly realizing his game and playing along,

"-big master bedroom-" the bookie's eyes twinkled

"-a backyard for Simon to kick the footy about-" she chuckled fondly

"-with a younger brother or sister perhaps, hey, maybe both."

"Sounds like a win-win no matter what then eh?" She smiled up at her lover, her trembling now subsided as she remained wrapped safely in his embrace.

Peter smiled, his hand gently stroking her hair, "I've got you, and you've got me. And that puts us on top of that podium every time love," he answered truthfully, gently capturing her lips with his own, "no matter what obstacles the world throws at us."

"Just you and me against the rest of the world hey?" She whispered softly, repeating his words from weeks earlier.

"Look out world eh?" He finished fondly

"Oh please," Frank huffed, rolling his eyes and turning his back on the lovers in attempted disgust, as he flung open the office door and brushed angrily past Michelle as he headed over to speak with the machinists, his jealousy not as well masked as he hoped.

"You alright?" Michelle asked as she came to stand on the other side of her sister-in-law only to receive a small nod in reply.

"You're doing great love," Peter whispered as he pulled her into a tighter embrace and laid soft kisses to her forehead, "I'm so proud of you baby."

"Peter I don't know how much more I can sit here acting strong," Carla's voice cracked, "I can't stop my body from shaking. Just hearing his voice brings it all back to me." She raised her tear-filled eyes to his, "He almost did it again, twice! How am I going to keep coming in here day in, day out from now on eh?"

"Oh love," Peter whispered as he wiped away the tears that spilled down her cheeks with his thumb, "we'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, just focus on me and Michelle, and draw strength from us, okay?" At her meek nod, he pulled her closer to him, his lips pressing reassuring kisses into her hair, while he exchanged a worried look with her best friend.

* * *

The chill of the March afternoon pinched Sally's cheeks uncomfortably as she walked across the cobbles towards Kevin's garage. Her arms around her midsection, she shifted her gaze momentarily towards the factory on her right. She couldn't help the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes as she thought about her role in its soon to be demise. She had been so smitten, so taken in by Frank that she actually _believed_ that he cared about her as much as she did him. But he had played her for a complete fool. Using her ambitious attitude and naivety to perfection in order to exact his revenge on the woman he was actually obsessed with, the woman who he claimed to love…

…the woman he had raped.

The thought of it made her instantly ill and she leaned against the brick wall outside Webster's Garage, her eyes closing momentarily in an effort to stop the bile from rising further in her throat.

She should have known better. She had known Carla much longer than she had Frank. She knew everything Carla had gone through with Tony and knew that when it came down to it, she was a fighter, a survivor; she was not one to hide behind an accusation of rape to get what she wanted, nor was she a drama queen. And while she may not always go about it in the right way, Carla always faced her problems head on.

Since the discovery of Frank's affair with Jenny Sumner, and his 'confession' to attacking his ex-fiancée two nights prior, Sally had not been able to get so much as an hour of sleep. This lack of shut-eye had allowed her time to re-think everything she had foolishly believed for months, and the guilt that had now overtaken her was all consuming. If she hadn't been so selfishly driven in her need to punish Carla herself, she would have known that Frank's accusations were nothing short of ludicrous: Carla could fight dirty when needed, sure; but she never would lie about being raped simply to boot him from the factory, nor to cover an affair.

Though she had not been around when Tony set fire to Underworld and tried desperately to take Carla with him in his devious murder-suicide plot, she had heard from the others that following the explosion, their boss had to leave the country for a few weeks in order to deal with the trauma she had suffered. She returned in top form as per usual, but there was a change in her, and no one could quite put their finger on just what it was until after everything that occurred with Frank.

Sally knew that despite her no nonsense and take no prisoners attitude in the business world, Carla had a heart of gold. She may outwardly appear to have a strict line drawn in her employee/employer relationships, but the truth was she cared deeply about her workers. She had stood up for Fiz countless times and aided her during the whole investigation surrounding John Stape's sordid murders; she had developed a rather strong companionship with Hayley from the get-go; **and** she had supported _her _wholeheartedly and without further question during her breast cancer treatment and recovery.

But all those memories of her kindness and understanding through that difficult time were easily forgotten, along with common sense, in the weeks that followed Carla's rape.

Sally had been so angry at being laid off in the weeks following Frank's attack in spite of everything she had done to keep Underworld afloat while Carla recovered, that she conveniently chose to ignore the signs that Carla was telling the truth, which she had seen with her very own eyes. The day Frank was charged, the workers all saw their boss arrive at the factory in her best attempt to put on a brave face. But the bruises on her arms and neck, the way she carried herself, the tears in her eyes…this was not the Carla Connor they had known for years. Even after the exposure of the affair and Frank's not guilty verdict, she was but a shell of who she once was. She was jumpy, uncomfortable, and exhausted.

Frank would only twist the knife further, standing close to her while overseeing the machinists work, the way he would deliberately brush his body against hers. At the time Sally thought it was all just revenge; the perfect punishment for trying to stitch him up with a false cry of rape. But in light of the recent events of the past forty-eight hours, as she sat awake in her bed the night before re-thinking everything that had happened since September, she felt sick with herself for not realizing just how evil Frank really was and just how much he delighted in the torturing of his victim at every opportunity.

She remembered how many times Carla's eyes would glaze over with unshed tears in the office as Frank leaned over her shoulder to check on paperwork; how she would fumble with her pen or mug and hastily excuse herself to the toilets. Again Sally had brushed it off as dramatics and Carla's weak attempt at trying to save face for her outlandish accusations; but now she knew that for every moment she worked with Frank following the trial, another chunk of Carla's protective armor was hacked away, exposing the frightened and abused woman underneath.

"Sal?" Tyrone's voice shook her from her thoughts. She opened her eyes to see him standing next to her, his brow furrowed in concern as he wiped some grease of his hands with a rag.

"Oh, hi Tyrone," she greeted him softly, "I were just coming to speak to Kevin if he's around."

"Uh yeah, 'ang on a minute," Tyrone turned and called for his business partner before taking a step closer to Sally, "Kev told us about what that scumbag did to Carla, and how he's been using you all these months to get his revenge on her. You okay?"

"Other than feeling overcome with guilt and stupidity you mean?" she answered despondently

"Well you shouldn't," Kevin said lovingly as both he and Tommy also came to stand next to her, "he's a master manipulator alright? He knew exactly what he were doing." Kevin placed an arm around his ex-wife's shoulders, "hey don't blame yourself for this," he whispered, giving her a gentle squeeze, "he just took advantage of you Sal-"

"Yeah, well imagine how Carla must feel then hey?" Tommy piped in knowingly, "Attacked by that slimy bastard, made to look like a liar in court, berated on the street here by her 'friends' and neighbours, and then conned out of her business. Talk about raped, robbed and left for the vultures eh?"

"Alright, steady on Tommy! I don't think this is helping do you?" Tyrone interjected

"Probably not," Tommy shrugged his shoulders, "but maybe, just maybe, instead of standing 'ere feeling sorry for yourself, you could go and see how the _real _victim in all of this is holding up eh?" tossing his rag down on the trolly next to the door, Tommy stalked back into the garage.

"He's right," Sally stated, shaking her head in disgust with her self-pitying attitude, "I should be checking on Carla and trying to apologize for my appalling behaviour,"" she lowered her gaze to her feet, "not that I would blame her for not wanting to give me the time of day."

"Well just hang around a bit and you'll get your chance soon, she nipped into the factory earlier with Peter and Michelle." Kevin said, gesturing to Underworld with his head, "want me to fix us a brew?"

"What do you mean she went in?" Sally asked, her head snapping up

"Probably just to get some of her things, you know, clear her desk and stuff," Tyrone added, "a little surprised she went in today though after what happened this morning."

"_What _happened this morning?" Sally's stomach flipped aggressively.

Tyrone furrowed his brow at her, assuming that the commotion at the bookie's flat was common knowledge around the street. "You know, her being attacked in the flat last night-,"

"She was what?" Sally screeched in horror

"Yeah, Tommy told us." Kevin filled her in, "Leanne told Tina and Stella earlier that someone got into the bookie's flat around three or so in the morning and gave Carla quite a battering. Simon, Ken and Leanne found her unconscious when they went to get some of the lad's schoolbooks. The coppers suspected Peter at first, since there was no forced entry, thinking he got so drunk last night that he lashed out at her-"

"What do you mean no forced entry?" Sally asked in confusion, "surely Carla wouldn't allow anyone access to the flat unless she knew them?"

"Apparently they had a key," Tommy answered, coming back outside with a mug of coffee in his hands, "Said it was dropped by the main entrance. Tina said they thought it was Peter's because he couldn't find his keys when he arrived back to the flat. But his alibi, some mentor from his alcohol support group, showed up a few hours after he was hauled down to the station with his keys in hand. Said Peter got into a fight with some random on the street, and crashed on his mentor's couch."

"A single key?" Sally whispered horrified

"Apparently so, yeah. Why?" Tommy asked curiously

Sally's breath hitched painfully in her chest...

_"__Right Mr. Foster," Sally said happily as she entered the office, noting that Frank seemed to dash quickly away from Carla's desk but paying it no mind, "I'm just off to the suppliers," she said as she grabbed her coat, "I'll be back as soon as." _

_"__Oh yeah, thanks Sally." Frank acknowledged with a smile, "oh you don't think you could do me a favour eh?"_

_"__Anything you like," she flirted whilst walking up to him and placing her hands on his chest, _

_He smiled affectionately at her, "well, when you nip out to grab those samples, could you also get a copy of this key cut for me please?" he asked holding up a small silver key_

_She tried to hide her confusion and slight disappointment at the request, but managed a smile, "Yeah, of course I can. What is it for?"_

_"__Spare key for my place," he answered smoothly, wrapping his arms around her waist and swaying her gently, "by the way, we are still on for that romantic dinner out in a couple days aren't we?"_

_"__Of course we are," she answered, her heart fluttering in her chest. She couldn't hide her sheer delight; not only were they moving forward in their relationship, but he was also coyly planning on giving her a key to his place as well._

_"__Good," he whispered as he kissed her forehead, "I have a feeling we'll have a lot to celebrate that night."_

_The door to the office swung open, causing them both to look up into the rather despondent expression splashed across Carla's face. She quickly replaced it with a snort of disgust though as she sauntered over to her desk with Michelle hot on her heels. _

_"__You going to pick up them samples or what, Webster?" Michelle snapped angrily_

_"__Yes I'm going now, not that it's any business of yours!" Sally bit back, turning her attention back to Frank, only to be hit with a stab of jealousy. His gaze was intently focused on his ex-fiancée as she sat in her chair with her head down in her paperwork and attempted to shield her emotions from them. Clearing her throat, Sally addressed Frank, "I'll be back shortly."_

_"__Yeah, thanks Sal." He responded distantly to her before looking back upon Carla._

_"'__Chelle did you go leave me desk drawer open?" Carla asked curiously as Sally made her way towards the office door._

_"__No, it weren't me." Michelle responded confusedly_

_"__Oh that was me," Frank piped in, "sorry, but my pen ran out while I was on the phone with a client, and I needed to grab a fresh one," he said holding out the pen teasingly to her._

_Sally paused at the door, turning curiously to watch the exchange as she fixed her scarf. _

_Carla bit the inside of her lip and quickly shut the drawer next to her, "there's a cup full of pens right on the cabinet over there Frank, and our phone has a hold button an' all."_

_"__Yes, well, I'll be sure to remember that for next time." Frank stated mischievously, his eyes darting up and down her body as she still refused to meet his gaze,_

_"__Do that." She snapped back, and without lifting her eyes from her paperwork she then stated coolly, "I suggest you get a move on Sally, before you find my boot lodged well into your backside!" With a huff of discontent, Sally made her way out of the office…_

"Oh my God," Sally whispered as she made a beeline to the factory

"Sal?" her ex-husband called after her.

"What the 'ell was that about?" Tyrone asked

"I don't know," Tommy responded before gesturing to the two officers that emerged from their car, which had pulled up across from them, "but it looks like things are just starting to kick off."


	7. Chapter 7

Sally flung open the door and flew down the two steps into the factory, finding herself face to face with the crowd of machinists huddled around their machines and peering into the office curiously.

"What's going on?" she asked, slightly out of breath. The workers all exchanged glances with one another, all still unsure of just where their former colleague's loyalties lay.

"Well according to Michelle," Eileen began with a sigh, "Frank doesn't have the contract that he claims Carla 'signed' last night, which apparently handed over the business to him."

"How'd you mean?" Sally asked

"Oh, disappointed are you?" Sean sneered mockingly

"No, of course not, I'm completely relieved actually!" Sally snapped back, "that means that Mrs Connor still has ownership of this place right?"

"Well Frank's obviously not going to just let it go without a fight is he?" Julie interjected in a hushed whisper

"Yeah he's already called the police to throw her out for trespassing." Izzy finished

"Yeah **and **he came out here earlier trying to get us all to back him up," Sean said, "said we all knew it was common knowledge that Carla signed the contract last night, and if we backed him he'd consider keeping us all on. Talk about barking up the wrong tree! I told him where he could stick his contract an' all!"

"The cheek of him," Beth sniped, "gonna have us all out of a job and on our backsides and expecting us to back _him_ up?"

"I'm just worried about Mrs Connor," Fiz whispered, standing next to Hayley at the office window, "she looks like she's had the fight knocked right out of her last night." She shook her head in disgust as she looked upon her boss, still sat tucked under the bookie's arm, with Michelle stood right next to her. "Do you think it happened to her again."

Hayley sighed, "I hope it didn't, Fiz, she barely survived it the last time. But there's no doubt in any of our minds about it now, is there," she suddenly snapped uncharacteristically, as she looked around at the workers' faces, "I think it's now safe to say _who_ was telling the truth all those months ago; isn't that right Eileen?"

"God don't make me feel worse about it or anything Hayles." Eileen grumbled under her breath.

"Excuse me?" A female voice interrupted them. They all turned towards the entrance of the factory to see two officers removing their hats, "we're looking for a Mr. Frank Foster?"

Sean pointed towards the office just as Frank came out onto the floor, "Oh thank goodness," he exhaled thankfully, "umm right in here officers please." He swung open the office door and threw his arm out, gesturing them in. Before he moved to follow them, his eyes locked on Sally's. '_Just keep coming back for more eh, Sally?_' he thought, _'let's see what damage I can do here!_' He flashed her a grin and winked before closing the office door behind him.

"Uhh, what the 'ell was that?" Beth demanded, grabbing Sally's arm and spinning her to face her,

"What was what?" Sally asked, genuinely confused by Frank's reaction

"You know what!" Beth snapped, her face now centimeters from Sally's, "you're in on this whole thing aren't you?"

"No," Sally said shaking her head furiously, "no I'm not I swear."

"Bollocks!" Izzy chimed in, "I bet you and 'im have cooked this whole situation up between the pair of you!"

"No it's not true, I don't what he's playin' at." Sally screeched defensively, "I want nothing more to do with that animal!"

"Yeah right," Sean rolled his eyes.

"It's true! That's why I came here! To do whatever I could to help Mrs Connor," Sally's eyes began to tear up, "to do whatever I could to make things right."

"Oh crisis of conscience now eh Webster?" Eileen sneered, "the truth is, you knew about his plans to screw Carla out of this place and send us all packin' and you said nowt about it. Typical Sally Webster! Saving your own backside while shipping everyone else up the river."

"_**What the 'ell is going on out 'ere!"**_ a familiar voice boomed, taking them all by surprise. Silence befell the group as Carla slowly made her way to the bickering machinists. She paused momentarily and inhaled sharply as a throbbing pain pulsed through her body

"Are you alright Mrs Connor?" Hayley asked, immediately jumping to her boss's side. Her fingers lightly touched the skin of Carla's wrist, and once again the factory boss gently grasped Hayley's hand within her own for support as she continued to edge closer to the group.

"Yeah, I'm fine Hayley," she responded softly, giving the older woman's hand a gentle squeeze, before focusing her attention on her workers, "look, I know you're all on edge, alright?" she began in a hushed tone, her voice hoarse and cracking, "but I am in there trying to save this place, and all your jobs to boot. So can you all just please," she closed her eyes tightly, "just put aside your differences and your pettiness and let me get on with this?" She looked over her shoulder towards the office, her eyes locking painfully with her tormentor as he eyed her with a smirk. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned back to the machinists, her voice barely above a whisper, "I'm sure you've all heard the rumours about why I look the state I'm in right now, so you can all understand how much more difficult it has become for me to be in the same room as him right now." At their sympathetic looks she continued, "so the faster we get on with this, the faster we can all get out of here." Her eyes locked on Sally, "except you Sally, I'll need you to stay behind. Once we get this whole situation sorted, I'll need a little pet for a certain job," she leaned in close with a mocking smile, "can't think of anyone better than you, eh Sal?"

Sally swallowed nervously, her eyes overflowing with tears of shame and guilt as Carla turned once more and offered a small reassuring smile to her workforce before making her way back into the office.

"Sorry about that," she smiled apologetically to the police officers as she gingerly sat back down in the chair, "as you can imagine this state of limbo has seemed to have gotten their knickers in a twist," she snickered, "no pun intended of course."

"That's perfectly alright Mrs. Connor," the female officer nodded understandingly before turning towards all in the small office, "like I was saying before we were interrupted, I'm DC Harrington, and this is DC O'Brien. Now we were informed that this call made is about a trespassing charge? Mr. Foster?"

"Yes officer," Frank put on his best gentlemanly persona and rising to his feet, "this woman is my ex-fiancée, and now ex-business partner. She put me through an enormous amount of grief these past few months so she could carry on an adulterous affair with this alcoholic bookie-"

DC Harrington raised her hand to halt him further, "Mr. Foster," she began firmly, "I am not interested in your sordid history. Please just get to the trespassing aspect of the story."

"But this all leads into it," Frank interjected, his frustration at not being able to sway their opinions against Carla becoming evident

"Mr. Foster, trespassing is a very black and white offence." DC Harrington stated aggressively, "There are no gray areas here. If she is not supposed to be in this building we shall remove her, if she refuses to be removed we shall arrest her. Now I'll not ask you again, please get to the trespassing point in this story."

"Fine," Frank snorted derisively, "I bought her out of her shares of this factory yesterday afternoon. She signed the contract giving me full ownership and yet today, she shows up here wanting to 'tie up loose ends'. Now, as we are a client-based company I couldn't allow her to just call all our contacts and sway them to simply follow her wherever she may chose to set up shop next. She refused to leave, so I called you. Now can you please do your job and remove her?"

"Mrs Connor," DC Harrington turned to face Carla, "did you sell your shares of your business to Mr Foster?"

Carla crossed her arms in front of her chest and slowly shook her head, "no" she whispered firmly, "no I have absolutely no idea what he's talking about."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Frank snapped in frustration

"Mr Foster please," the detective turned back to Carla, "is this the first you've heard of him offering to buy you out?"

"Oh no," Carla responded shaking her head, "he's offered numerous times in the past month. He hasn't gotten his way though and so is now trying to boot me out through the back door. But the thing is officer, I own sixty percent of this factory, which means _I'm_ the boss; and as per our agreement, which he himself drew up, he can't boot me out, without me selling out."

"And you did not sell out?" DC Harrington reiterated

"Well let me put it this way, his last monetary offer was for less than half of what my shares are worth," A leisurely smile spread across her face, "what on earth could possibly entice me enough to sell out my business that I have rebuilt from the ground up for such a ridiculously low price?"

"You lying little sl-" Frank sneered through gritted teeth

"Mr Foster, I wont ask you again to calm down," the detective warned him again, "so it appears what we have is a 'he said, she said' case here. Easily solved though, if I can just see the contract in question please."

With a menacing glare in Carla's direction, Frank reached into his briefcase and pulled out a copy of the contract.

"Oi!" Michelle uttered towards the officers taking a step in front of her best friend and blocking her from Frank, "I 'ope you are taking note of his trying to intimidate her here. This man is a dangerous, lying, vicious piece of scum and he will do anyth-"

"'Chelle," Carla whispered, her hand reaching out and gently grasping her sister-in-law's, "just leave it eh?"

"Carla," Michelle hissed

"Please 'Chelle," Carla pleaded softly her head falling tenderly into her free hand, "please just stop alright?"

With a warning sneer towards Frank, Michelle moved back to the stand beside Carla, her hand placing itself protectively on her shoulder.

"You okay love?" Peter asked as he softly brushed a stray hair from Carla's face and tucked it behind her ear, "do you want me to get you anything?"

"Yeah uhh," Carla exhaled roughly, an involuntary moan escaping her lips, "could you get me another few paracetamols from my purse please and some water to wash them down with."

"Sure love," Peter rose to his feet to collect her a glass of water from the kitchen

DC Harrington continued to flip through the contract Frank had handed to her; "Mr Foster? Mrs Connor's signature is not on this document."

"Yeah I know," Frank stated, pointing to the contract, "That is a copy. My solicitor drew up three copies altogether, and she-" he pointed to where Carla sat hunched over in her chair, "-she stole the original, the one with both our signatures on it, last night."

"Ohh now I 'stole it'," Carla mimicked him, her fingers coming up and making the motion for quotation marks as she patronized him, "you know, I'm really not in the mood for this," she said as she sat up straight, "I've been in 'ospital all mornin'. I'm exhausted, and I would like this done and over with."

"Mrs. Connor," DC Harrington began gingerly, her concern over Carla's ever paling complexion rising to the surface, "did you take the original contract last night."

"No," Carla answered truthfully, "I didn't take anything."

DC Harrington shrugged, "Can you produce the original contract Mr Foster?"

"How can I produce it when she stole it?" Frank shouted in sheer anger

DC Harrington threw up her hands on either side of her, "What about witnesses?"

Frank turned his piercing gaze onto Carla once more. "Now why didn't I think of that earlier?" he responded evilly, his eyes slowly roaming over his ex-fiancée from head to toe, "witnesses; oh yes officer! I have a witness, in fact , I have two."

Carla used the distraction of Peter handing her the tablets and a glass of water to avoid eye contact with Frank as he scanned her greedily from top to bottom. She popped the pills into her mouth, closed her eyes, and took a mouthful of the cool, clear liquid. Keeping her eyes squeezed tightly closed, she took slow deep breaths to calm the rising panic within her.

_Witnesses._

During her earlier delight in burning the contract over the sink in Michelle's flat, she had forgotten entirely about Jenny and Anne.

Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, she slowly blinked back into focus and pinned her tormentor with determined eyes.

She would go down fighting this, but in her heart she knew the bastard once again had her in checkmate position.

* * *

"How long have we been waiting now?" Beth moaned from her work station, her head pressed upon her folded arms

"About forty-five minutes now," Hayley answered looking at her watch.

"Well what the flammin' 'eck is taking her so long?" Sean inquired, his arms crossed in front of him, "she moves fast when she wants to, but when it comes to dishing out some torment to our Mrs Connor, Anne Foster certainly knows how to keep us all waiting."

"Poor Mrs. Connor," Fiz whispered sympathetically, "She looks to be getting worse with every passing minute."

"She's probably not had a decent meal or sleep for the past thirty-six hours or so." Sally spoke up quietly from next to her, "on top of everything else, it's bound to take its toll."

"Well if there's one consolation to us just hanging about here instead of in the pub, it's that we get to gaze more upon Officer O'Gorgeous there." Eileen murmured appreciatively

"Ooo I know; I keep imagining what his chest and abs look like…" Sean trailed off

"I reckon I could scrub my laundry on his stomach…" Eileen said dreamily

"Irish?" Beth piped in

"Scottish." Sean answered

"Aye..." Eileen and Beth responded together.

The main doors opened and closed loudly causing another bout of silence to befall the factory.

"Oh here we go everyone," Sean chimed as Anne walked down the steps and towards the office. DC O'Brien stepped outside the office and positioned himself in front of the door, raising his hand to halt Mrs. Foster in her approach.

Inside the office DC Harrington turned to the apprehensive group, "Now I just want to reiterate what I've already stated here: the witness statements do not supplant the contract evidence-wise. Should Mrs. Foster's account re-affirm what both Mr Foster told us in person, and what Ms Sumner confirmed via the telephone, then I'm afraid Mrs. Connor that I'll have to ask you to vacate these premises and consult with your solicitor. Are we clear?" Carla nodded meekly.

"I don't see 'ow this is fair," Michelle stated rolling her eyes, her arms crossed across her chest, "his witnesses consist of a woman he's sleeping with and his mother."

"It is unfortunate Ms Connor, but that is why having a neutral party is always advised when dealing with agreements and contracts. Most other witnesses are generally biased to one party or the other." DC Harrington turned her attention to a confidant Frank, "That being said Mr. Foster, should Ms Foster not confirm your version of events, then Mrs. Connor is free to come and go as she pleases until you can produce the contract in question. I also suggest you consult with your solicitor no matter what occurs here in the next few minutes to decide if and how to proceed further. Agreed?"

"Absolutely," Frank smiled with assurance.

"Alright," DC Harrington gestured to her partner, who escorted Anne into the office. "Mrs. Foster, I am DC Samantha Harrington,"

"Pleasure to meet you," Anne greeted her thinly, her hands clasped in front of her stomach

"My partner and I were called here to settle a dispute between your son and Mrs Connor. Apparently there is some disagreement over ownership of this business from a meeting that was held in this very office yesterday afternoon. Were you present at this meeting?"

"I was," Anne responded confidently, her eyes casting over Carla

"Could you please tell us what the purpose of this meeting was?"

"My son set up the meeting to have Mrs Connor sell him her shares of the business." Anne responded

"And did Mrs Connor show up to this meeting?" DC Harrington asked, glancing over to ensure her partner was taking sufficient notes

"She did. It's not the first time my son has offered to buy her out; he's been doing it for the past month. But it is the first time he had the paperwork drawn up." Anne stated

"And at this meeting, the one that occurred here yesterday, did Mrs. Connor sign her shares of the business to Mr. Foster on this paperwork?" DC Harrington asked as Frank's smiled grew larger and more patronizing by the second. "Mrs. Foster?" DC Harrington pressed during the extended silence

"No," Anne answered her eyes fixing upon her son's crestfallen face, "no, once again, Mrs. Connor turned my son's offer down."

"So Mrs. Connor did not sign any paperwork turning over her shares to your son."

Anne turned to look upon Carla, who was now standing deathly still by her desk, her breath hitched painfully in her chest. "No," Anne whispered firmly, "no she did not sign any paperwork."

"Mr Foster," DC Harrington turned to an astonished and surprisingly silent Frank, as Carla breathed out a collective sigh of stunned relief, "there's nothing more we can do here. Contact your solicitor for any further action you may wish to take."

"This is ludicrous!" Frank suddenly snapped, "she's just getting revenge on me because I kicked her out of my house!"

"Mr Foster," the detective addressed him warningly

"This is absurd! I will not let her get away with this!" his finger jabbing in Carla's direction, "She signed the damned contract! This place belongs to me-"

"Mr Foster," DC Harrington's voice boomed loudly, "If you do not calm down sir, I will place you under arrest for threatening and aggressive behaviour!"

Frank closed his eyes and took short controlled breathes. His fury was barely contained though, as he clenched and unclenched his fists tightly at his sides.

"Sorry for the trouble," DC Harrington apologized politely to Carla, "But I still recommend you speak with your solicitor as well in order to figure out your next steps. We'll see ourselves out." With a nod to Peter and Michelle, the detectives walked out of the office.

"Et tu Mother?" Frank sneered angrily, taking a menacing step towards Anne, "So it wasn't enough that you betrayed my trust by exposing Jenny and I to Sally eh? You just had to go that one step further didn't you? Just had to exact your revenge for my kicking you out of the house by betraying me - your own son -, to stand up for this-" he waved his hand in Carla's direction, "-this cheating slut as well-"

"I'm sorry baby," Carla interrupted, turning to Peter, "that blow to the head last night must 'ave made me a little fuzzy, but-" she gestured to Frank with her head, "is he basically saying that he was _screwed over_ ... twice?"

"Yes," Peter smiled evilly, "yes he is, love."

"Hmmm," Carla looked pensive for a moment, before turning back to Frank and taking a step towards him, her hands pressing into the desk as she leaned forward, a smirk tugging at her plump lips.

With a patronizing snort, Frank peered down at her, his eyes scanning her face and resting on her lips before seeing her hold up a small piece of blank paper between two fingers. It was no larger than an inch in size, but he could see the burnt lines around the edge of it. The burnt scrap was blank and while he knew he could never prove what it actually was, he did know it belonged to the original contract he had been looking for since the night before. He slowly raised his gaze, locking it on Carla's eyes with a dangerous sneer, his blood pumping furiously in his veins and his breathing becoming heavy and shallow.

Mustering all the courage she could under his intensity, Carla held his stare and whispered, "screwed out of full ownership of this factory," her smirk fading as she spat, "there's the hat-trick!"

Unable to control his fury any longer, Frank lunged at her with a predatory growl, his fingers grasping her upper arms in a vice grip before she had the chance to sidestep him. Immediately fearing the danger of being raped again, her body froze beneath his grip as flashbacks came flooding over her.

Terror seized her limbs into paralysis once more as her mind was suddenly thrown back to her flat that September evening; her back pressed against the door much as she was now against the cabinet. The horrifying phenomenon almost as bad as death itself. His eyes burned into hers, his face mere inches from her own. And as he somehow forced her further into the cabinet behind her, Carla knew for a fact that in that moment she _would _prefer to be dead. Yes, she would rather be dead than experience that feeling of terror yet again; a feeling so encompassing and powerful, it rendered her utterly immobile, making her feel as heavy as lead; nothing more than empty weight.

Everything happened in seconds, but to Carla it felt like she was being held against that cabinet for hours. She could faintly hear Sean's voice out on the factory floor yelling for the police to return and could hear Peter and Michelle shouting and trying to pull Frank off her, but her eyes didn't remove themselves from Frank's dark orbs, and he retained his bruising grip on her like a possessed demon. His fingers digging into the flesh beneath her coat that she couldn't help but wince and grunt in pain. He leaned in menacingly close to her face, speaking in a low voice she was sure only she could hear, "Don't think this is the end, Carla," he warned through gritted teeth, "you're just a silly little fly _darling,_ and I will have you in my parlour again." He hissed and her eyes widened in a mix of fear and confusion before feeling Frank's weight finally being pried off of her by an incensed Peter. The sound of footfalls pounding down the factory steps and barreling into the office hammered in her ears as she slid down the cabinet to the cold floor beneath her.

"Oi!" DC Harrington shouted as she peeled Frank from Peter's vice-like grip; DC O'Brien slipped his arms under the bookie's shoulders and up around the back of his neck, bracing him into a headlock and pulling him away from his partner. DC Harrington kneed Frank in the back of his knees, causing him to crumple enough for her to slam his face and chest onto the desk, holding him securely in place with her elbow and knee.

"Right," she stated angrily, pulling out a pair of handcuffs, "I warned you Mr. Foster, so you leave me no choice!" She yanked his arms one by one behind his back and fastened them into the metal cuffs, receiving sharp grunts of discomfort and frustration from him. Once secured, she grasped the back of his suit jacket, and after pulling him to a standing position, she leaned in close to his ear, "perhaps a night cooling off in a cell will calm you down eh?" She gritted out before shoving him forward towards the office door.

Carla squeezed her eyes closed tightly, concentrating on breathing in through her nose and exhaling shakily through pursed lips in a thinly veiled attempt to quell her racing heart. The shouting had continued unabated around her as the police subdued Frank, but she had retreated so far into her protective shell that she could not distinguish whose voice belonged to whom. Her trembling fingers gripped her hair on either side of her head as she tried to drown out the drama occurring just steps from her. As Frank was being hauled out of the office, she felt a pair of hands place themselves protectively upon her shoulders. She flinched involuntarily and opened her eyes to apologize for her reaction to Michelle, only to find herself face to face with a concerned looking Anne.


	8. Chapter 8

Carla continued to breath erratically, her eyes wide and confused as she focused on the woman crouched down before her. Her fingers were digging into the tiles beneath her hands, her back pressing itself further into the cabinet behind her.

"Are you alright?" Anne asked her tentatively, her eyes awash with sympathy and concern. Unable to bring herself to answer, the younger woman instead continued to tremble under her touch, turning her head slightly to glance at the fingers that remained placed on her shoulder. Sensing her discomfort Anne withdrew her hand, intent on giving her the space she needed, but as Carla hunched her shoulders forward instantly, automatically wrapping her arms about herself, Anne couldn't help but note the fresh bruises marring the factory boss's wrists.

'_Where did those bruises come from?'_ she wondered, her brow furrowing curiously. _'I didn't see any on her skin at the contract signing yesterday afternoon-' _Her eyes continued up, now scanning Carla's forlorn face, her scrutinizing gaze really taking in the gash and dried remnants of blood on her forehead. She swallowed the apprehensive lump forming in her throat. Almost instantaneously, her mind flashed back to the number of police cars lining the street outside the bookie's flat earlier…

…and she immediately felt sick.

She was snapped back to the present upon hearing the main factory doors slam shut, and she gingerly shifted towards Carla,

"Do you think you can you stand?" she asked lightly. At the raven-haired woman's tentative nod, she extended her arms quickly before her, "Here", she offered warmly, "let me help you up." But as she reached towards her, Carla eyes widened in fear and she instinctively jolted, pushing her body back and colliding more painfully with the cabinet behind her. Anne could feel her heart breaking at the sight and bit her lip to quell the tears from escaping behind her eyes. The woman who normally appeared so strong and so feisty, looked like nothing more now than a frightened child. _'Oh Frank,' _Anne cried mentally, _'what have you done?'_

Trying again, this time more slowly, Anne successfully managed to take Carla's arms in her hands and gently pull her to a standing position. She didn't miss the wince the younger woman experienced as she rose to her full height, and her maternal instincts took over, "Are you alright?" she prodded gently, "do you want to sit down?" she asked her, gesturing softly to the office chair beside her.

Carla couldn't help the chuckle that passed her lips, and raised her eyes to meet Anne's, "up, down, up, down, eh?" she whispered hoarsely

Anne chuckled herself as the realization of helping Carla to stand from a seated position, only to offer a seat immediately after, fell upon her, "well a chair is much more comfortable than a floor," she stated softly, her gentle eyes gazing deeply into the tired, green ones before her.

"Oi!" A loud voice shrilled from behind her, "You can take your hands off of her right this second lady, unless you're hankerin' for a beatin'!"

Anne found herself face to face with an irate Michelle, as Peter quickly pulled Carla towards him, holding her at arm's length as his eyes traipsed over her shaking body.

"Carla, did he hurt you?" he asked her in a panicked voice. As his girlfriend shook her head timidly, Peter steadied his breathing and lovingly cupped her cheek, tilting it so she was looking into his concerned brown eyes. "Are you okay, love?" he asked gently

For a moment she focused hard on responding with a clear and strong voice, no longer wanting to show those who continued to stand around the office her extreme vulnerability. But as she locked her gaze on her lover's, she found no sound making its way past her trembling lips. Her eyes began to water anew, and she rubbed her lips together in a vain attempt to halt the sob that was threatening to emerge.

A crushing pressure arose within Peter's chest at seeing her obvious distress, and he carefully pulled her into his embrace, his hands stroking her hair soothingly and planting kisses along her hairline, all the while whispering that everything would be okay…

…a promise even he wasn't so certain of…

"I think you should let her sit down," Anne offered politely, "she looks very weak."

"And whose fault is that eh?" Michelle snapped, drawing the older woman's attention back to her as Peter gingerly aided Carla into her chair, "Your _son's_," she spat venomously, "that's who!"

"'Chelle-" Carla weakly called, "please stop…".

"But Carla-"

"No 'Chelle, just stop…" Carla whispered firmly, her eyes finally meeting her sister-in-law's, "it's not her fault, please ju- just stop…"

"Okay," her friend moved quickly to her side, dropping instantly to her knees and grasping the factory boss's forearm in her hand, "okay I'm sorry," she acquiesced gently, giving the soft flesh below her fingertips a reassuring squeeze, "what can I do? What do you need babe?"

From the corner of her eye Carla could see the factory workers hovering around the windows of the office and felt incredibly exposed. She could almost perfectly envision them so clearly in her mind, practically drooling at the prospect of new gossip regarding their boss…

"You could uhhh," she slowly spun her chair so her back was to the machinists, "you could let that lot know they still 'ave jobs to come to tomorrow, and then send them home, please."

Michelle nodded her understanding and stood up, about to make her way onto the factory floor when she heard her friend's voice again,

"Except Sally…" Carla raised her head slowly, her eyes fixing on her friend's questioning gaze, "Send Sally in 'ere would you?"

"You sure?" Michelle's eyes suspiciously darted to Anne, conveying an unspoken warning to the raven-haired woman still hunched over in her leather chair

"Yeah," Carla nodded with a crooked smile, "yeah I'm sure."

Biting back her disapproval, Michelle opened the door and stepped out of the office to address the workforce, "Right you lot…"

Whilst rubbing his hand comfortingly on his lover's back, Peter watched as Anne anxiously shifted from foot to foot. Her fingers were nervously grazing over scattered items on her son's desk, as though trying to subconsciously keep herself occupied and removed from the situation she presently found herself in.

"Why?" Peter's voice drew both women's gazes, but it was clear of which one he was addressing, "why did you do it?"

The older woman looked from the bookie to Carla, her eyes lingering sympathetically there longer than usual before drifting back again, "I-I don't know really," she stuttered. But as Peter narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her she quickly shook her head and plastered on a sweet smile, "anyways what does why I did it really matter now? Carla has her factory back. Everything is put right again; no harm no foul."

"_No harm no foul_?" The phrase practically dripped of venom as they pushed past Peter's gritted teeth, "what? You think that by righting _one_ of your son's many wrongs that will somehow cancel out everything else he's done to her?" Despite the anger raging through his system, the bookie's voice remained steady and cool. There was an accusatory edge to his tone, one that he couldn't remove no matter how hard he tried, but he refused to let his temper get the better of him, not when Carla needed him to be her rock. "Have you seen the state of her?" he asked, his hand lightly outstretched in front of his chest and gesturing towards his girlfriend, carefully gauging the older woman's reactions as her eyes reluctantly roamed over Carla again, "there. The result of your son's latest attack. Forced his way into our flat hours before dawn, exacted his revenge on her again, -"

"How do you know that it was Frank?" Anne asked rather coldly, surprising herself with the chilliness of her tone. _'Old habits die hard…'_

Carla felt the precise moment when Anne's words successfully got under her lover's skin. His fingers subconsciously dug into her back so fiercely she could feel the pinch of his nails through her thick coat. The action caused her to grunt in discomfort, drawing Anne's attention to her. The older woman watched as the factory boss rubbed her lips together, her head bowed and eyes squeezing closed in preparation for the shouting and accusations that was now inevitable. Shifting her now uncomfortable gaze back to Peter, she involuntarily took a step back; the bookie's eyes were practically bulging from their sockets, his mouth hung agape at her, the top left side of his lip raising and lowering itself and twitching into a sneer, "are you serious?" he ground out gruffly.

"Oh, I'm not getting into this," Anne stated haughtily, grabbing her scarf and wrapping it around her neck, "despite what you may think _Mr. Barlow_, I didn't come here to argue with anyone-"

"Then why did you come then? Eh?" Peter snapped loudly as Michelle entered the office followed by a rather timid Sally, "if you are so convinced of your son's proclaimed innocence, then why the act with the coppers earlier, eh? Why not just back up Frank's side of the story to stick it to Carla and get your precious son his revenge?"

"Because my son has taken his revenge too far!" The shouted words had escaped her lips before she could stop herself. As all eyes fell upon her, she found herself caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. She couldn't tell them what she knew. After all, she barely had time to wrap her head around it herself. Wanting to avoid any further interrogation and possibly saying something she would later regret, Anne made ready to storm out of the office; but it was the tear-filled green eyes that were fixed quizzically upon her that halted her mid-step. There was an overwhelming pang of guilt coursing through her chest as she stared into the pleading eyes of the woman she had grown to despise over the past few months.

She exhaled deeply. She couldn't leave now, not without a glimmer of an explanation. Removing her gaze from Carla's, Anne focused her attention back on Peter, "Look, I was all for Frank exacting his revenge for the charges, and the court fiasco by buying Carla out of her shares for nothing more than a song. But the way he went about it, using Sally, using that Jenny Sumner woman, and then calling the Gaming Commission on you –" she swallowed hard before shaking her head and pursing her lips, "he was getting out of control. I wasn't going to sit back and watch my son get taken over by his lust for revenge. He needed to be stopped. He'll understand why I did what I did in the long run, even if he doesn't see it right now." She brushed past Michelle and Sally, opening the door and stepping out of the office before turning back to gaze at Carla. "I'm sorry my son's temper got the better of him today," she said before turning sharply on her heel and marching out of the office, her eyes lingering on the scaffolding to her right for a few long moments, before exiting the factory, leaving those in the office bewildered at her change in demeanor.

Back in the office, Sally slowly stepped forward, "Carla?" her voice trembled as tears spilled down her cheeks, "Carla I am so sorry!"

"When did you find out Sally?" Carla asked, her eyes not rising from a spot on the far wall

"What?" Sally asked in confusion.

"**When . did . you . know . that . Frank . would . ship . this . place . up . the . creek?**" Carla gritted out as though speaking to an errant child.

"A week or so ago," came the meek reply, "but I swear I didn't know the full extent of his plans-"

"Right," Michelle interrupted with a scoff, "did you know he was going to lay off all the workers, your _neighbours_?" she sneered, "**Well?** **Did you**?" she shouted angrily when Sally struggled to respond

"Yes." Sally whispered, her eyes shifting back to Carla who simply let out a humourless chuckle and shook her head in response.

"Let me guess," Peter interjected as he continued to rub his hand along Carla's back soothingly, "he assured you that _your _job were safe? Am I right?"

"Yes," Sally sniffled, "yes he did."

"He played you like a violin Sally," Carla responded sadly, "like he played us all." Lifting her eyes to the blonde woman she offered a crooked smile, "how did you find out? Cause I'm more than sure he didn't just spill over some-" she paused as bile rose to her throat, "pillow talk?"

Sally's eyes darted from one occupant of the office to the other, "no, I –uhh" she shifted her stance to a more firm one, "no, I found it by snooping through his email."

Carla nodded her head in understanding, her lips pursing as she exhaled deeply, "Tell you what Sally," she began slowly, "I'll be willing to give you your old job back as a machinist-"

"Carla-" Michelle whispered warningly

"If," Carla continued, ignoring her best friend's interjection, "if you are willing to do something for me."

"What?" Sally asked with a sense of foreboding

The factory boss gestured across from her, where Frank's laptop remained opened upon his desk, "still remember his password?"

* * *

As the cold March air whipped about her, Anne remained seated on the bench outside the salon on Coronation Street. Her eyes glancing to the police officers removing the yellow tape from around the bookie's shop and the entrance to the flat above it. A single tear escaped her right eye as she shifted her gaze back towards the factory…the place that would forever haunt her memories now…

**Frank leaped at Carla, grabbing her purse to search for the microphone he was sure was planted on her. They both struggled with one another, unaware that someone had quietly entered the factory just moments before and now stood underneath the rafter, listening intently to their exchange.**

**From her vantage point, the shadowed figure viewed the struggle between her son and his ex-fiancée, watching with scrutinizing eyes as Frank found a bottle of whiskey in Carla's purse and chuckled rather evilly. And all the while, as she listened to her son mock the visibly frightened woman above her, Anne had that irkingly sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had felt it twice before: the first was when she took over as Frank's proxy in Underworld, and seeing firsthand the almost truthful pleading in Carla's eyes as she spoke the words that have haunted her soul ever since, **_**"You just can't accept that your precious son is capable of what he did, well he is…"**_** The truth is, that **_**one**_** encounter aside, Anne had always believed Carla was lying about the rape. And if today's events had not transpired a little differently she would have believed it still. After all, there was no way Carla would be here in this factory by herself if she truly feared Frank.**

**But today **_**had**_** transpired differently…**

**Today, that irkingly sinking feeling returned full force to the pit of Anne's stomach when her son admitted to setting up Peter with the Gaming Commission. The look of pure jealousy on his face as he watched Carla leave with the bookie**

**Anne had always known her son had a tendency to control those around him; control their mannerisms, their future…**

…**control them…**

**But never did she ever think he'd go so far; to take a woman's dignity like that, it just didn't seem like something her son would do. Not **_**her**_** Francis.**

**But even now, high above her, the way he was taunting his ex, the poison dripping from his tongue as he said her lover's name. '**_**Jealousy**_**' Anne shivered forebodingly. It hadn't escaped her attention that Carla continued to shake like a leaf. The strong, feisty façade she wore to the world did not exist in this darkening factory anymore; Carla was absolutely terrified. **

**"I'd rather be an alcoholic than a rapist." The words were stated venomously, but as she tried to brush past him, Frank apprehended her angrily. Gripping both of her arms he pinned her brutally to the scaffolding. **

**Anne watched in horror as Carla's hand lost grip of the railing behind her, her arms now being pinned to her sides. The anger emulating off of her son continued to frighten her as she watched the struggle, **_**'was this how he pinned her that night?**_**' Anne thought before quickly shaking her head, **_**'No, no! This has all just gotten out of hand." **__**she tried to convince herself**__** "She's just angered him now. He never would do that to a woman, not my son.'**_

**"I was cleared. In a court of law."**

**"Wh-why can't you just admit it, eh? Is it guilt, is it shame- or are you just not man enough?"Carla sneered at him, pushing against Frank with a fierceness that no doubt surprised them all. But Anne knew it was an act, and more fearfully she knew her son did as well…and horrifyingly, he seemed to be enjoying it.**

**"Ooo now she's challenging my masculinity." He taunted her chillingly**

**"Oh I wanna hear the words come out of your mouth!" She gritted her teeth, and from her spot beneath them, Anne could see that Carla was willing the tears not to fall as she pushed against his grip again.**

**"Which words Carla? Which words?" he patronized her. "I raped you?" Anne held her breath, "I raped you." His tone confirmed what Anne had been dreading, "I **_**raped **_**you. ****There's your confession!" he repeated himself again, as though speaking to a child.**

**Anne's hand covered her mouth as she watched the exchange, unable to quite comprehend that her son had just admitted to the brutal crime he had been accused of. She felt herself crumble at her knees and placed her hand against the wall to steady herself, taking deep breaths as tears escaped her eyes.**

**"Now does that make you feel better, only I did feel bad about it," Anne's eyes looked up, hoping to see some semblance of the gentle, loving son she had raised all those years prior, but her heart splintered anew as he spoke again; "-for a little bit."**

**She heard the soft sob involuntarily escape Carla's lips and felt her own begin to quiver, her son had no remorse. "But you betrayed me," Frank's chilling voice whispered, "and it was your fault."**

**At this Carla pushed angrily against him in fury, but he had the upper hand and his grip tightened on her arms, "No, no, no, you should know by now, you picked the wrong person to fight with." He stated with a mocking cruelty, continuously pushing his victim back into the railing until she stopped fighting back **

**"Today was the best," he said smugly as his arousal grew, "taking **_**your**_** factory. Hey, that means I've screwed you twice." Anne could see Carla's body become more rigid as Frank leaned over her, his arm snaking down around her waist, and she strained to hear her son's now lowered voice, "you fancy goin' for the hat trick?" **

"You alright love?" a voice startled her from her thoughts.

"Yes I'm-I'm ummm-" Anne stuttered in confusion

"Come on," Stella gestured, helping the woman to her feet, "let's go inside and get you a brandy eh?"

Nodding her consent, Anne allowed the barmaid to wrap her arm about her shoulders and steer her towards the Rovers Return but not before her eyes drifted back to the factory. Every fibre of her being was telling her that she had to make things right, but in her heart she knew it wouldn't be so easy as to simply turn in her son, no matter how much of a monster she thought him to be…


	9. Chapter 9

Dierdre listened to the heavy footfalls descending the stairs, before peeking her head around the corner of the kitchen, "everything alright?" she questioned as Peter entered the sitting room.

"As okay as it can be I guess," he gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, "Carla's just in the bathroom trying to freshen herself up a bit" he closed his eyes and shook his head in disgust, "she hasn't really had an opportunity to even have a shower after last night..."

"Don't even mention it love," Dierdre replied, as she finished pouring the coffee into the mugs, "I just hope things will get better for her now that she hasn't lost the factory,"

"I wouldn't hold your breath Dierdre," Peter whispered despondently, nervously toying with the trinkets resting on the bookshelf,

"Any news on the flat?" Ken asked his son, watching with a scrutinizing eye as Peter ran his frustrated hands through his hair before slumping himself down on the sofa.

"Yeah," the bookie responded, his fingers massaging his forehead, "yeah umm, them coppers have finished their investigation. I had the locks changed for us while they were still there and they said we can go back as early as tonight if we wanted to."

"Tonight? Do you think that's wise?" Dierdre questioned sympathetically, handing Peter a steaming mug of coffee. She looked from her stepson's questioning gaze to her husband's, "What? Alright I admit I wasn't exactly the nicest to Carla after this whole affair business came out, but I _do_ empathize with what she's been through. And personally I don't think it's a good idea for her to be back in the place where she was attacked so soon after-"

"Like she was the first time, you mean?" Peter countered snidely, "You know, while everyone around here berated her on the street for being a 'homewrecker', and moving in with me right away, that was precisely _the_ _reason_ she moved in so quickly after the trial. Bad enough that she was cooped up in that flat, where that scumbag had raped her just a few months before, but then to have him cleared of all charges? To be walking around free?" He shook his head with a mixture of frustration and anger, "You know he had threatened to attack her again just days after the trial? Offering to drive her home and making it sure she understood that his bail restrictions were lifted and that he could go anywhere he wanted to and not be touched."

"Animal…" Ken whispered, settling down in his chair at the table.

Peter took a grateful sip of his coffee and exhaled forcefully, "Yeah. And she was terrified. _Is _terrified. Won't admit it to anyone, not even me but I can see through her front. She sees him everywhere she goes; awake, asleep…don't matter. He's there. He's always flamin' there…" his sorrowful brown eyes locked onto his father's, his voice breaking as he whispered, "I fear he always will be..."

"Peter," Ken closed his eyes and sighed, "I'm so sorry son."

"Yeah, me an' all" the bookie stated, "sorry I ruined the trial for her because I was so selfish; sorry I ruined Leanne and Simon's life in the process; sorry I allowed that scumbag to lay his hands on Carla, on my girlfriend, once again. And I'm sorry I could do nothing to stop it because I were too focused on necking booze."

"You can't change the past Peter," his father told him gently, "nor can you predict the future. All you can do is be there for Carla in the here and now."

"He's right you know," Dierdre said as she took a seat next to her step-son on the sofa, "we've all made the mistake of just hanging on to the past. We've festered and wallowed in it, and doing that only stopped us from enjoying our present."

"Problem is I don't know how to do that at the moment. She's so jumpy, she can barely even let me near her. It's almost like she can't tell my touch from his anymore."

"Well you can start by reminding yourself that as hard as it is on you, this is a _thousand_ times harder on **her**," Dierdre stated firmly, attempting to avoid the classic self-pitying rut her stepson was infamous for.

Peter nodded in agreement, "I know, you're absolutely right," with a sigh he looked at his father and stepmother sadly, "I better call some hotels and see if I can't book a room for us for a couple of nights."

"Nonsense," Ken interjected, "you can both stay with us."

"I appreciate the offer but I know she would feel that she were imposing. But if you wouldn't mind taking Simon for a few more nights?"

"You can _all _stay here as long as need be. No imposition at all." Dierdre stated, her arm wrapping about the bookie's shoulders and giving him a reassuring squeeze

"I appreciate the offer, I really do," Peter began gently, "but I don't think it's a good idea. I'm not sure when she'll be ready to go back to the flat, and after everything that's happened, I want to take her away from all the prying eyes and gossip. It's bad enough she'll have to be back in the factory tomorrow, but at least she can try to have a few nights sleep in a comfortable bed."

"Hiya love," Dierdre called out as Carla came into the main room and Peter rose to his feet next to her, "would you like a brew? Or perhaps a coffee?"

Carla's arms folded across her chest, her body hunching forward slightly as she nodded, "umm a coffee would be great, thank you."

"Have a seat, Carla." Dierdre said, gesturing for her to sit at the table.

"Yeah, come on love," Peter placed his hands on her back, and her body tensed beneath his fingers. He felt his heart break at the movement, but Carla turned her face towards him, offering him a reassuring smile, "sorry," she whispered apologetically.

"Don't apologize, you can't help your reaction, love." He lovingly wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in to lean on him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

"I know, and I hate it," she stated solemnly, before lifting her head and kissing his cheek affectionately.

Carla sat down at the table as Dierdre placed a mug in front of her, "milk, sugar?" the woman asked kindly

"Just milk, ta Dierdre." she responded with a smile, as she wrapped her hands around the warm mug. Her eyes slowly came to rest on Ken, who sat in the seat next to her. "Umm, Ken, I wanted to thank you, for ummm-" she shifted uncomfortably in her seat

"No need to thank me, Carla" Ken cut her off, his fingers gently patting her forearm affectionately, "I'm just glad we found you when we did."

She nodded, her eyes focusing on the mug in her hands, "Is uhh, is Simon, okay?"

Ken nodded, "He was shaken up at first, but he's okay now. I think he'll be better once he sees you both."

Carla nodded, somehow not quite believing that Simon would want to see her, "I'm sorry for all the aggro I've brought that kid," she said, her eyes still not moving from the mug, "that I've brought all of you, really. It wasn't my intention to hurt anybody, I'm sorry..." her eyes lined with tears

"Carla, we've all been there," Ken reassured her, as Dierdre took a seat next to him, opposite Carla, "no one ever intends to hurt anyone, but it is, unfortunately, a part of life. You and Peter love each other, we can all see that. Things are still raw from the fallout at the moment, but things will eventually calm down."

The tears began falling down Carla's face as Peter stood next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, "I didn't want this to happen," she sobbed unable to hold back the tears anymore, her elbow steadying on the table as pressed a fist into her forehead, "Frank were right, all along."

"Hey," Peter said, pulling a chair and sitting next to her, "What are you talking about? What was he right about?" Carla shook her head, refusing to look up.

"It were about a couple weeks ago, when I was," she exhaled a frustrated breath, "trying to finish up some paperwork at the factory while he were out at some dinner with Sally. So I sent everyone home and was finishing off in the office." She rubbed her forehead just above her eyebrow apprehensively, "I heard the factory door open, and close and he just stood there; looking at me through the glass. I was trying not to show that I were petrified, so I continued on doing my work, and he came in to the office, and just sat across from me," she felt the bile rise in her throat, "eyeing me. I got so rattled, that I just started packing up my things and he finally spoke, mocking me as to why I wasn't already at home with the man I wanted all along...

_"Why did you do it, Frank?" __her voice cracked as he turned to look at her_

"_Why did I do what, Carla?" Frank chuckled, his dark eyes gazing upon her trembling body as it stood poised at the office door, her purse and coat in her arms_

"_You said you knew I had feelings for Peter all along."_

"_I did indeed,"_

"_Then why," she whispered, "why did you pursue me?"_

"_You can't help who you fall for Carla," he sighed, his answer rather genuine, his eyes locking onto hers almost sympathetically as he spoke, "I was attracted to you the moment I met you. You were on my mind constantly: day, night… before I knew it you became like a drug to me. I just- I craved you. I had to make you mine." He slowly walked towards her his expression almost remorseful and apologetic as she inched shakily away from him and squeezed her body closer to the door frame, "I suspected you were not an easily attainable woman. I was worried I wouldn't be able to just woo you to me without breaking down some of your barriers first. I tried first through Michelle, and when that fell apart, I went for Maria…isolating you from those who I knew would stand between us in the future."_

_His soft expression turned chillingly sinister and smug as he stretched his fingers out to caress her cheek with twisted affection, his eyes darkening further when she stepped out of his reach, "I should have realized from the get go that you were just a silly little fly sweetheart; might have saved us all the trouble with that stupid little hairdresser."_

_Her green eyes narrowed in confusion and fear as she looked up at her tormentor; she willed herself not to move, terrified that he would lash out and apprehend her. Frank chuckled at her apparent confusion, "oh come now darling, you may fool everyone else into thinking you only read glossy fashion magazines, but I've seen the books on your bookshelf; I know you are more well-read than you pretend to be," he teased her_

_"Underneath your 'queen bitch' front, you are just an insecure little fly aren't you? Flitting about, starving for love and affection." He took a step towards her, her back now pressed against the office door, as he leaned ever closer to her, "After your mother died it was as plain as day for me to see: In order to break through your defenses I simply had to give you what you 'secretly' craved: flattery, attention, security…" his breath was hot and heavy upon her cheek, and she couldn't contain the involuntary shudder that befell her, "…love…"_

_She quickly sidestepped around him, placing herself at her desk behind her chair, "You don't know the meaning of the word," she breathed out as she edged backwards towards the other door; the familiarity of the situation not lost on her; this was exactly how she had tried to leave the factory not two days after he had raped her._

_"Once I realized that, lulling you into a false sense of security was easy," he continued on as though she never interrupted him, "despite all the red flags, despite Maria's warnings ringing through that pretty little head of yours, you just couldn't stay away from me. You were drawn to me; like the fly to the spider…"_

_Her purse and coat clutched firmly in her hands, she backed out of the door, her eyes still on Frank as he too exited the office and stood on the factory floor, smirking devilishly at her._

_"I do love the affect I have on you, darling."_

_"I'm not **your** darling." she gritted out, as she made her way slowly around to the machines_

_"Oh but you are, Carla." He stated maliciously, "You're mine in every way, shape and form."_

_"I'll never be yours, Frank." She whispered._

_"Oh really? Tell me **darling**," he began, his voice taking on a patronizing air, "have you managed to get me out of your head yet?" Despite the silence on her end, he knew her well enough to know he touched a nerve. He could practically see her face drain of colour, and when she remained silent, he smirked, "Has that spot **he **resided in for over a year, now become occupied by me, hmm?"_

_She couldn't respond. She simply stared straight ahead; her heart pounding in her chest, and her body began to tremble with anger._

_"You see my dear, you are mine no matter how much you try to deny it." His voice, though barely above a whisper, thundered in her ears, "I have ensured that you will never be rid of me; because I finally did what you couldn't do…I got that alcoholic bookie out of your head once and for all, even if he is in your sheets. From now on, every time he looks at you, you'll see me. Every time he touches you, you'll **feel** me…" She swallowed down the lump of bile rising in her throat, hating the truthfulness behind his malicious words, "So you see Carla: you will never be rid of me, ever. I will be there at your happiest of times, and at your most intimate of moments…you are mine, and mine alone."_

_"You unimaginable bastard…" she whispered shakily._

_"Oh sticks and stones my dear," he taunted her,_

_She closed her eyes, as her body trembled with pent up rage, 'don't let him get to you, do **NOT** let him get to you…' she told herself as she slowly continued to edge towards the exit._

_"You know I speak the truth Carla," He whispered her eyes fluttering open and noting he hadn't moved from his place at the office door, __"Save yourself the heartache, dump him now. Let him go back to the uncomplicated, un-ruined Leanne." His words cut deep and she felt the tears traipsing down her face as she backed away closer to the exit, h__er mind repeating the words over and over, _

_"Who knows…maybe I'll even give you a second chance..." He smiled at her, his eyes scanning her up and down, the smile fading slightly when she stuck her chin up defiantly at him_

_"Go to 'ell." She uttered bravely and turned on her heel, exiting the factory and praying he wouldn't follow..._

"And then today at the factory, when he had me pinned to that cabinet he called me a silly little fly again," she said, "said he would eventually take me back to his web, or den or sommit."

"Parlor?" Ken swallowed uncomfortably as Carla's head shot up and nodded

"Yeah, that's it, a parlor," she whispered

Peter felt his stomach sink at his father's now paling complexion, "Dad? Why'd you guess a parlor?"

"Ken?" Dierdre called to him when he failed to respond to Peter's question, "What is it love?"

"If it's what I think it is, it's from a poem," Ken breathed out, his eyes locking sympathetically onto Carla's, "a warning really…"

"A warning?" Peter repeated in confusion, "How'd you mean a warning? A warning about what?"

"It's a poem that was written in the late 1820's by Mary Howitt. It's an admonitory – or cautionary if you will – poem warning readers of those who use flattery and charm to disguise their true intentions, usually of evil origin. It's the ultimate story of seduction through flattery that leads to an untimely end of the fly that the spider ensnares. If that's what Frank was alluding to, it seems he might have had planned something sinister for you, Carla, all along… "

"Tell us," Peter demanded softly, his jaw trembling as his eyes began to tear up

"Peter-"

"TELL US!" The bookie shouted fiercely, regretting his action, the moment he felt Carla jump next to him.

Ken recoiled in his seat momentarily before his gaze shifted from his son's angry features to that of the vulnerable woman next to him: her eyes were lined with unshed tears, her hand now covering her mouth as she looked upon him pleadingly.

With a deep exhale, Ken began reciting the poem from memory…

"**_Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly_**

"'**_Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy._**

**_The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,_**

**_And I have many pretty things to show when you are there."_**

* * *

"**_O no, no," said the little fly, "to ask me is in vain,_**

**_For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."_**

"**_I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;_**

**_Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly._**

* * *

"**_There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin,_**

**_And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in."_**

"**_O no, no," said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said,_**

**_They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed."_**

* * *

**_Said the cunning spider to the fly, "Dear friend, what shall I do,_**

**_To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?_**

**_I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice;_**

**_I'm sure you're very welcome; will you please to take a slice?"_**

* * *

"**_O no, no," said the little fly, "kind sir, that cannot be;_**

**_I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see."_**

"**_Sweet creature!" said the spider, "You're witty and you're wise!_**

**_How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!_**

* * *

**_I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf,_**

**_If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."_**

"**_I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say,_**

**_And bidding you good-morning now, I'll call another day."_**

* * *

**_The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,_**

**_For well he knew the silly fly would soon be back again:_**

**_So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,_**

**_And set his table ready to dine upon the fly._**

* * *

**_Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing_**

"**_Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with the pearl and silver wing:_**

**_Your robes are green and purple; there's a crest upon your head;_**

**_Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead."_**

* * *

**_Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly,_**

**_Hearing his wily flattering words, came slowly flitting by._**

**_With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew_**

**_Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue;_**

* * *

**_Thinking only of her crested head — poor foolish thing! At last,_**

**_Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast._**

**_He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,_**

**_Within his little parlor…"_**

**"…but she ne'er came out again!" **Carla whispered, remembering the poem, as Ken had recited it, from her school days. Her tears now cascaded rapidly down her visage, and Ken nodded sadly at her.

His eyes flickered over to his son who quickly moved to sit next to Carla, the gentle rise yet shaky fall of his shoulders suppressing a barely contained rage.

"That sick bastard…" he whispered, his arms wrapping protectively around Carla, who had not removed her gaze from a spot on the far wall, "he knew what he was capable of from the get go. What he was capable of doing if you continued to turn him down. He was just biding his time."

Carla didn't respond. She was simply too in shock to comprehend just how much of an intricate web Frank had weaved since he walked into her life over a year and a half ago. And she had been foolish enough to get caught right in it...

* * *

**And now, dear little children, who may this story read,**

**To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed;**

**Unto an evil counselor: close heart, and ear, and eye,**

**And take a lesson from this tale of the Spider and the Fly.**


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. I will be on a bit of a writing hiatus for the next few weeks as I will be on holiday beginning tomorrow. I am now at the point where I have uploaded all the chapters of the stories I had previously written, (the ones I found) and I am now writing the new chapters from scratch, so it will take me a bit longer to upload the updates, but I will try to rotate them between the three stories. **_

_** I wanted to get at least one new chapter of one story up before I go on holiday, and this one won out! **_

_**Thank you all again for the kind words and encouragement. It is really great to be back. :)**_

* * *

Peter slipped under the covers of the king-sized bed in the hotel room he and Carla booked into for the next two nights, awaiting his girlfriend to finish up the bath he had drawn her. He offered to book them in the suite for the remainder of the week, but Carla was insistent they return back to the bookies flat in a few days. As hard as she knew it would be, she didn't want to give Frank the opportunity to force her out of yet another place she called home.

The only blessing that Frank's attack had caused, was that the animosity Simon had towards Carla had seemed to alleviate. He had come into number 1 with Leanne, and had timidly approached Carla:

_"I went to the shops to get some sweets, but I didn't know what kind of sweets you liked." Simon had rambled, and Carla couldn't help the smirk that tugged at her lips, "Mum told me you like chocolate, but not plain chocolate, the kind that has something inside like toffee..." Peter looked to Leanne, who was standing idly at the door to the main room, and mouthed a thank you to her, to which she nodded in response with a half smile._

_"...but I wasn't sure which one you would like, so I got you a bunch of different kinds," Simon finished, handing Carla a bag with assorted candy bars. Carla smiled at the young boy, _

_"Thank you Si," she said affectionately, taking out one the bars out of the bag, "would you like to split this with me?" _

_Simon had nodded enthusiastically and sat in the chair next to her as Carla broke the chocolate and handed him the slightly larger half. While Ken and Peter quietly filled Leanne in on what had occurred with the factory, as well as Frank's numerous threats to Carla, Leanne insisted that while she would drop the fight for custody, she wanted Simon to stay with her for the foreseeable, especially if Frank was making more threats towards Carla. Peter was not best pleased about the arrangement his ex wife was suggesting, but agreed to have a proper discussion about it the next day. _

_"Was it my dad that hit you?" __they overheard Simon asking Carla,__ his eyes downcast as they welled up with tears._

_"Oh no," Carla moved her chair closer to the boy, and tentatively putting her hand over his, "oh no, no Si, your dad would never, ever do anything like this, I promise you that." She locked eyes on Leanne, still feeling insecure about stepping on her toes, but received a small smile in support from her former friend, "Look, Si, someone broke into the flat last night and I tried to fight them off; you know me and these heels of mine, I must have just caught on the carpet and tumbled down in the scuffle, that's all." _

_Simon looked up into Carla's face, "you promise?"_

_Carla smiled, "I've said, haven't I?" she playfully tousled his hair, earning a smile from the young boy._

Peter looked up when he heard the bathroom door creak open, and watched as she timidly stepped into the room, wearing nothing more than one of his t-shirts and her underwear, and he could now plainly see all the bruising that marred her legs and arms from the scuffle she had with Frank on the stairs and in the bedroom the night prior. He swallowed his anger, knowing that him getting riled up he wouldn't help her, and right now, her safety was his upmost priority. He knew Foster wanted to get under his skin; poking and prodding the bookie until he snapped and beat him to a pulp, or worse. He knew Frank wanted nothing more than to get him banged up for assault, leaving Carla essentially unprotected.

His eyes softened upon watching her turn off the bathroom lights and walk towards him. Gone was her tough exterior and purposeful stride, replaced now with an overwhelming vulnerability and slow deliberate steps; as if she was anticipating the floor to open up beneath her. She paused at the foot of the bed when her eyes caught sight of the closed closet.

Hugging her arms absentmindedly across her chest, she made her way to the two wooden doors and carefully opened them, peering inside. She stood there for a few minutes, eyeing the contents vigilantly. She gingerly reached in with her fingers, gently shifting their coats inside as if to ensure they were the only things in there, before loudly exhaling the breath Peter hadn't even realized she was holding. She closed the doors and turned to face him, running a shaky hand through her hair.

"Sorry," her voice was heavy with embarrassment and her eyes looking anywhere but into his, "just a force of habit now."

He stepped out of the bed, and slowly approached her. He pulled her into him, gently caressing her upper arm with one hand, while the fingers of the other tangled into the hair at the crown of her head. He felt her arms meekly wrap around him, and her cheek press against his shoulder

"I don't know why you're apologizing love," he whispered as he rested his chin on her head, "I always check for monsters in the closet before I go to bed as well." He heard her sigh softly as he ran his fingers through her hair, "I am especially terrified of short, blonde-haired monsters with big gobs named Stella." He said as a big grin crept across his face and she let out a laugh in spite of herself. He pulled her tighter to him, "There's the laugh I missed so much."

"We're going to need to get that sofa bed pulled out for Simon for tomorrow night," She said quietly, "we may have to stay until the weekend once he sets his eyes on that pool."

Peter laughed, "yeah we may just have to do that. Be a nice little break for us," he whispered, "thanks for agreeing to let him stay tomorrow, I think he's worried about you."

"He could have come tonight if he didn't have school tomorrow," Carla snorted affectionately, "and I think he's more concerned with sleeping in a large bed with room service than he is with me."

He gently pulled back from her and ran the backs of his fingers along her jaw. "Come on," he whispered as he gestured to the bed, "let's get you a few hours shut-eye eh?"

She nodded her agreement, and he walked her around to her side of the bed; he helped her to slip under the covers, before walking back around to the opposite side and sliding in next to her. He propped himself up on some pillows, and outstretched his arm to her, motioning for her to tuck in. She curled into him, her head resting in the nook between his neck and shoulder, her fingers lay gently on his chest, and her leg wrapped lazily around his. He placed his hand at the small of her back, drawing her in as close to him as possible, while the other arm cradled her head, his thumb and forefingers caressing the soft skin of her face.

He couldn't deny that holding Carla as she fell asleep was something he never wanted to give up. In his arms, she felt protected, and safe. Her: the strong businesswoman; the '_loud mouth with a dirty giggle', _as she had called herself a year and a half ago, the woman who appeared to need no one. But he knew her better than what everyone else saw. He could see the real her behind the facade she wore to the world. He could see the vulnerable woman beneath the icy exterior. And when he held her to him, he felt like he was capable of anything. He would do anything for her, he would protect her at any cost. He hated that he fell off the wagon when she needed him most. So wrapped in his own self-pitying that he couldn't protect her when she went back to the factory that night, and even worse still, when he couldn't protect her in the flat they now shared together.

Within moments, he felt her breathing slow to a steady rhythm, and felt his own eyes begin to flutter shut.

* * *

_"__I'm the luckiest man in the world, do you know that?" His voice was soft, and his breath tickled against her hair as his fingers gently ran up and down her back._

_"__Oh aye," she responded with a yawn as she stretched her tired limbs against his naked body, repositioning her head to a more comfortable one on his chest, "how's that?" she asked, wrapping her now nicely stretched arm around his torso._

_"__Because I've just married the most amazing, sexy, gorgeous, funny, feisty woman in all of England." Paul whispered huskily pressing a kiss upon his newlywed wife's head, "and she also just so happens to be one of my best friends." He felt her smile against his chest, her arm instinctively hugging him closer to her._

_"__So what you're saying is: there's most likely a more amazing, sexy, gorgeous, funny, feisty woman somewhere outside of England, but since you_**_ think_**_ you have one, who also conveniently happens to be a friend of yours, you'd rather settle for her than go traipsing off looking for the woman of your dreams?" She felt his arms relax around her as he let out a frustrated sigh, and she shifted her head so her chin now rested on his pec, just in time to see him roll his eyes at her, "Gee, I am flattered darling," she responded sarcastically._

_"__After all these years, you still can't just take a compliment can you?" her husband scolded her lovingly_

_"__Oh I can," Carla replied quickly, before bringing up her hand and poking his chin with her index finger, "but you see it's much more fun to make you squirm Paulywalnut; and you do make it so easy."_

_"__Do I now?" His hands began to travel down her sides, and she bit her lip playfully, "I think you'll find my dear, that it is you that is the squirmer..." His fingers instantly began to tickle the skin above her hip bone, causing her to jolt away from him and onto her back, giggling and kicking her legs as he crouched next to her; her hands flew out to try to stop his assault but just as she would push his hands away, his fingers would find another sensitive spot to tickle._

_"__No, stop…" she breathed out between fits of laughter, "Paul! Stop!"_

_He grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head, his fingers interlacing with hers as he leaned his body over hers, "Apologize and accept the compliment Miss Donovan!" _

_"__I'll accept your pathetic attempt at a compliment when pigs fly," she whispered huskily, a seductive smile playing upon her lips, "and it's Mrs. Connor now, or have you forgotten already?"_

_Paul dropped his head so his lips hovered just over hers, "Oh I haven't forgotten," he stated in a low voice as he re-positioned himself over her, nudging himself between her legs, "but I will have no wife of mine not believing that she is only one I have eyes for. Do you honestly think I could ever want to look for another woman when I have a goddess like you?" He gazed down upon her, relishing in the soft blush that graced her cheeks, "Then again, perhaps I need to make you squirm another way? Perhaps you just need some convincing," his lips brushed softly against hers, feeling her breasts press against his chest as her breathing became heavy and shallow, "Maybe I just need to prove to you how amazing," he kissed her eyebrow, "sexy," he kissed her nose, "and gorgeous you really are…" he passionately captured her lips with his, keeping her hands pinned above her, before raising his head from hers to gaze into her lust-filled eyes._

_"__What happened to funny and feisty then?" she breathed out, as she tried to steady her quelling desire._

_"__You've already know you have those qualities Carla," he pecked his way down her neck, "it only seems to be compliments about your looks that you can't seem to accept." He swirled his tongue along her collarbone, and smiled triumphantly at the moan that escaped the back of her throat, "now Mrs. Connor, we only have use of the honeymoon suite for another twenty-four hours. So shut that gob of yours woman, and let your husband make his case!" _

_She let out a throaty laugh and it was like music to his ears; he couldn't believe how lucky he was to call her his wife. She could have had her pick of any man in Manchester if not the world; for years he had worried that she would begin dating his younger brother whom was always referred to as the "looker" of the family. But Liam never made a move; never mentioning any kind of any romantic feelings towards Carla. Paul couldn't imagine anyone else ensnaring her, and so he took his chances and asked her out; shocked and thrilled when she agreed. And now here he was, the morning after his wedding; about to make love to his wife, the woman he loved with every fibre of his being, for the second time in a span of hours. _

_She relished in his kisses, loving the way he made her feel as though she was the most beautiful woman in the world. His hands kept hers pinned against the plush pillows above her head, and her inability to touch him back only heightened her senses. Her back arched so her chest pressed into his, her hips grinding against his. He captured her lips with his again, his tongue stroking hers and she moaned in response. He released one hand, his fingers setting her skin ablaze as it traveled down her body, gently pulling her leg up; her free hand came to rest on the back of his neck, her fingers twirling the short hair at his nape. Her other hand remained pinned above her lovingly, her fingers opening momentarily as she felt him slip inside her; she broke the kiss they were sharing to gasp in desire and he lay a slew of kisses around her jawline as she closed her eyes in ecstasy. Their lovemaking became more passionate, grabbing at each other with their free hands and pulling the other as close as possible._

_"__Paul…" Carla moaned, her eyes remaining closed and her head rolling from side to side in sheer ecstasy, feeling her orgasm nearing ever closer. He began to thrust quicker, slipping his hand under the small of her back, and raising her hips slightly, allowing him a better angle to stimulate her bud more prominently. She gave a cry of desire; her thighs beginning to tremble as he thrust faster and deeper._

_"__Cum for me Carla," he whispered, and her eyes shot open. _

**_That wasn't Paul's voice. _**

_Her eyes frantically looked down at the man who was nipping and suckling his way up her neck, and panic washed over her. He slowly raised his head to look into her eyes, and tears of fear and anguish began to fall down her face; she was no longer making love to her husband Paul._

_"__I want to see you cum, sweetheart," Frank whispered, his grip on her pinned hand increasing as the hand under her back held her hips firmly in place beneath his; "I want to hear you, and feel you cum."_

_She shook her head violently and tried to shove him away but he continued to push into her, nudging her ever closer to the edge. She turned her head away from him, catching a glimpse of her white wedding dress strewn across the chair. She choked on a sob, willing herself to awaken from this nightmare. But as he continued to thrust into her, her body began to involuntarily shudder, tightening around him as she lost herself to her euphoria; tears of torment and agony cascading down her face, as she cried out in ecstasy._

She let out a soft cry, and her eyes flew open.

She was no longer in the honeymoon suite she had shared with her husband Paul, but appeared to be in the bed of the hotel she and Peter had checked into earlier that evening, and very much in the present. From her place on the bed, she quickly looked around the room with her eyes, finding it dark and deserted. She drew her knees up to her chest, her body shuddering with tremors. '_Where the hell are you, Peter?'_ she thought frantically, before her eyes fell to his pillow and the note that was left there,

_Love,_

_Just stepped out to have a fag._

_Be back shortly,_

_Peter XX_

The pillow beneath her cheek became wet from her fresh tears; her muscles were so fatigued that she could barely move, and the pain that wracked her body was a throbbing one; a constant reminder of what occurred in the bookies flat less than twenty four hours earlier.

And yet the physical pain she was enduring was nothing compared to the sorrow she felt in her heart. It was bad enough Frank had assaulted her physically, emotionally, and mentally since September. But now he was invading her memories; rewriting history…altering her past

He was right. He would be there at her happiest of times, at her most intimate of times. How long more before she started seeing Frank in place of her lover with her waking eyes, and not just in her sleep?

She let out a quiet sob as she clung the pillow tighter to her.

She would never be rid of him...


	11. Chapter 11

"Is the breakfast not to your satisfaction?" Roy asked, watching as his customer pushed her eggs around on the plate.

Carla looked up to him apologetically and smiled, "Oh no, I'm sorry Roy, it's more than okay. My stomach's just taken a funny turn is all."

"Would you like me to clear it away for you?" Roy asked, gesturing to the plate, his eyes shifting between Carla and Peter,

"No that's okay, I'll finish it off for her," Peter answered, moving Carla's plate in front of him, "but could we get another coffee when you're free, please Roy?"

"Certainly," Roy responded, his eyes affixing back onto the despondent factory boss, whose eyes had lowered back to the table, before reluctantly heading back behind the counter.

Peter leaned his elbows on the table, his eyes scanning Carla's face sympathetically, "you don't have to do this, you know?" Carla's eyes came up to meet his, "you don't have to go into the factory today. I'm sure Michelle and Hayley can handle it."

"No," She answered firmly, "we need to get new orders in, and I don't trust that slimeball not to try to tank us now just to prove a point."

"Car," he whispered, his hand reaching across and grasping hers gently, his heart breaking as she flinched under his touch, "you had a rough day yesterday, you barely got any sleep last night, you were attacked the night before," her eyes glazed over and she looked away from him, fixing her gaze on the wall, "no one will blame you for needing a few days off."

"Peter, I've tried taking days off in the past," Carla said in frustration as she looked back at him, "days turned to weeks and it didn't help me recover. In fact, all it did was nearly sink my business and it gave him the opportunity to swan in and take 40% of everything in my factory." She sighed, "if it weren't for Michelle coming back when she did, and Nick helping out, I would have lost everything." She closed her eyes, and exhaled, "Peter, I can't do it again, baby. I can't let him destroy what little I have left."

"Hey," Peter admonished, "don't talk like that! Baby, you have me..."

"I know," Carla responded sombrely offering him a small smile, "you and my business. And he nearly took you both from me a few days ago...amongst other things..."

Peter lowered his head, ashamed that he had resorted to drinking when Frank had tried to mess with his business. "I'll never forgive myself for that," he said, his eyes locking back onto Carla's, "for leaving you to fight him on your own, with the business, and... afterwards,"

Peter was interrupted as Rita, Emily, Audrey, and Mary walked in to the cafe, their conversation quieting as they laid eyes on Carla, and he felt her immediately tense up. She had been going through this since September: the looks, the glances, the whispers: was she telling the truth, was she making it up...

It only got worse after the trial, with the likes of Stella, Norris and even some of her workforce making snide comments about her deliberately within earshot. After the majority of the street hearing what had happened to her in the bookies flat, many were now offering her sympathetic gazes and he honestly didn't know what Carla hated more: being despised and branded as a lying home-wrecking slut, or being viewed as a victim. He could see she wanted to just crawl into a hole and disappear. He brought her hand to his lips, gently pressing them to her fingers, "You okay?"

She nodded, "Yeah I'm just tired of everybody talking about me. I just really would like it to be over with, you know?"

He reached across the table, his thumb gently brushing her cheek and she smiled at him, "I wish I could take you away from all of this: all the prying eyes, and the gossip; just whisk you away to some nice villa in Spain; Why don't we do that, eh? Just go on holiday somewhere? Just you, me, and Si."

"Ohh because right now, it'd feel like running away..."

"Well that's fine then," he smiled at her, shrugging his shoulders, "let's run..."

She smiled softly at him, "not yet..."

* * *

"One coffee, white, no sugar." Roy stated as he placed a takeaway cup in front of Carla along with a small white box, "and an assortment of cakes, for the staff, as requested."

"Cheers, Roy," she responded with a half smile

"Hayley will be down shortly. Do uhh, do you mind if I -" The cafe owner gestured to Peter's empty seat, who had since left to open the bookies, sitting down when Carla motioned for him to. "Hayley has filled me in on the situation at the factory," Roy said, leaning back in his chair, his hands remaining in his lap, "and I wanted to uhh check in and see how you are doing?"

Carla smiled kindly at him. She and Roy had always been on friendly terms in the past, and it had only heightened after she had returned from LA over two years ago, following Tony's arrest. He had been the voice of reason and had aided Hayley in her struggle to forgive Carla for putting Roy's life in danger, upon hearing Tony's confession and doing a runner instead of going to the police.

_"...As soon as I heard Tony was shacked up with Maria I got on the first plane back here and I told him, if he didn't leave I'd shop him. Tony and his mate tried to kill me..." Carla pleaded, her voice choking on the sobs she tried to contain. Hayley and Roy simply stared at her for a moment, both in shock as they took in what she had said._

_"Some might say I did something similar, by not going to the police after he confessed to me." Roy finally broke the silence._

_"No, but you made his life hell! You were in his face; putting pressure on him all the time because you're a brave, brave man!" Hayley argued back_

_"Yeah, and I'm a coward! And I'm sorry about that..." Carla cried, her eyes overflowing with tears, and Roy could see Hayley was struggling to keep her anger towards her. Hayley was a better person than what Tony was trying to make her into. He knew he had to put things right._

_"Tony Gordon has caused so much pain," Roy stated, "Compared to what he did, Carla's misdemeanour is small fry. Please, do-don't let him keep winning like this. He's messed up so many lives. Why should he mess up ours?"_

_"You've changed your tune," Hayley snidely muttered as she took a sip of tea from her mug_

_"Yes, well," Roy responded," perhaps you should too..."_

"Thanks, Roy. But you know me," Carla responded, attempting to close herself off from appearing vulnerable, "don't stay down for long, do I?"

Roy shook his head, "No, no you don't. You are nothing if not resilient, Carla. It wasn't long ago you were attacked in that same factory by your ex husband," Carla averted her eyes up to beyond the cafe counter, the reality of how much had happened since that terrifying day in June 2010 hitting her like a drum, "and in the face of absolute terror, you didn't run. You didn't cower. You stood up to Tony. And you begged him to let Hayley go. You were prepared to sacrifice your life for hers, and you saved her." He pointed at her for emphasis, "_you_ saved her. And that is a debt I will never repay to you fully..."

The tears brimmed in Carla's eyes as she gazed affectionately at Roy, "Oh I don't know," she chuckled, trying to offset his compliment and tapping the box in front of her, "a couple more iced fingers ought to do the trick..."

Roy's lips pursed into a thin line, knowing she wasn't comfortable with praise and how she often used her dry wit to brush it off, "I know it's been very uncomfortable for you around here since September. I know how it feels to be the topic of everyone's conversations. And I know that you, like myself, don't like to be fussed over. So I won't continue to add to your discomfort,"

"Oh Roy, _you're_ not making me uncomfortable, love - " she interrupted him kindly,

"Be- be that as it may," he held up a hand to continue, "I know you must be feeling hurt, and embarrassed, and run-down, and that you may feel as though you may never get back the strength you never believed you had in the first place. But it is my hope, that one day, you'll be able to see yourself the way Hayley and I do: as a strong, resilient, warm-hearted woman. Tony Gordon wasn't able to take you down," he wagged his finger at her in only the way Roy could without it being condescending, "Don't let Frank Foster be the one to do it." He tapped his fingers on the table before standing up, pausing as he felt Carla's hand place itself softly over his,

"Thank you," she whispered, nodding to him with a lopsided smile. He nodded back, awkwardly patting her hand and heading off behind the counter.

"Sorry for the wait," Hayley stated as she closed the door leading to her and Roy's shared flat and trundled towards Carla, "you ready?" she asked her kindly

Carla looked up into Hayley's eyes, and then to Roy's, who gave her a small nod of reassurance from over the counter. She couldn't describe it, but she felt a rush of strength flood through her veins and she exhaled and smiled back at the cafe owner. Her eyes came back to Hayley and she rose from her seat, "you know what, Hayles?" she grabbed her coffee cup as the older woman took the box from the table, "I don't think I've ever been more ready." she answered truthfully, smiling and turning on her heel, exiting the cafe with Hayley beside her, as they headed off toward Coronation Street.

* * *

"And here's the file for Macnee's," Michelle stated as she placed the folder in front of Carla, "are you sure you're up to meeting Rory after what happened last time?"

Carla nodded, "Well I'll have to be, won't I? I mean he's the one who called the meeting with me. So it's either he wants to strike up a new order, or he's prying for information, but one way or another, I can't risk losing the chance of an order."

"Alright, and I'm meeting with Channing's," Michelle said, "so, do you think he'll be showing up today?" Her head gestured towards Frank's desk.

Carla glanced at the clock, that read 11:15 and scratched beside her nose, "He'll be in soon, I would imagine," she gritted out, "that officer called to inform me he were released an hour or so ago from the station. I reckon he's gone home first, to get changed and, I dunno sit in his chair and stroke an evil cat maniacally or sommit."

Michelle snorted, "that's quite an image," and she and Carla snickered before she glanced out to the factory floor and crossing her arms over her chest, "speaking of pets..."

Carla followed her gaze to where Sally sat, hunched over her machine, not speaking to any of the other workers, "lay off her, 'Chelle."

"Why should I? After everything she put you through? What she almost let happen to this place, to her neighbours..." Michelle pointed out

"I know," Carla closed her eyes, "I know, but-" she sighed, "she were taken in by him, weren't she? He's a persuasive, manipulative - " she rubbed her lips together, "look, it's not that different from what I did to Maria-"

"Oh hang on! Yes it flamin' well is!" Michelle screeched, "You weren't going around publicly accusing Maria of lying; you weren't berating her in the street, or trying to shut down her business..."

"So, what, you think the public shame is worse than having a friend not believe ya?" Carla shot back, "Because I can guarantee you, it isn't." She sighed and shook her head, "Look, despite everything, Maria were able to forgive me, and I've been able to forgive Sally. So you should as well."

"Well, I don't about that, but," Michelle answered, uncrossing her arms and sitting down at her desk, "for you, I'll try."

Carla smiled at her before rising to her feet and grabbing her purse, "I'm just gonna pop into Dev's. I need to grab some anti-nausea tablets. I've been feeling sick since I came out of hospital."

"Okay love," Michelle responded, "I'll hold the fort."

"Ta," Carla responded as she stepped onto the factory floor, ignoring the quiet that descended among the workers, who were all standing in the kitchen on their tea break, and approaching Sally's machine, "everything okay, Sal?"

Sally raised her head in embarrassment, "yeah, just want to finish as much as I can," she responded,

"Don't make yourself a martyr, Sal. They'll get over it eventually." She reached out and squeezed Sally's shoulder supportively before turning to the workers, "Hey, Fiz? Any of them choccie cakes left?"

"Uhh, yeah Ms Connor, did you want one?" Fiz replied, reaching into the box

"Yeah, but for Sally 'ere -"

"Oh, oh no that's okay, I'm alright-" Sally stuttered, feeling the disapproving glares from her coworkers,

"Sally," Carla said firmly, "You're going to go into that kitchen, you're going to eat one of them cakes, that I paid for by the way, you're gonna have a cuppa," she turned to the staff in the kitchen, "and you're all going to end this little silent treatment against Sally. You're all gonna socialize with each other on how miserable a day it is outside, and then, you're all gonna get back to work." She could see the hesitation on her staff's faces, so she continued on, "**do not**, let that man divide you all. You mark my words, he is going to do everything in his power to make my life a complete misery the moment he walks back in 'ere, and don't be fooled: he could very well sink this business if you all give him the opportunity. I've forgiven Sally, and I've had a hell of a lot more reasons not to than you lot. So do yourselves a favour, if you want to keep your jobs, hash it out over your tea break if you must, and then move on. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Ms Connor," came multiple responses.

"Good," Carla turned back to Sally, "chin up Sal. Face the music, and then be ready to show Frank a united front, alright?" at the woman's nod, she gestured towards the kitchen, "off you go." Sally stood up to walk past her and Carla leaned in closer to her, "not one of my iced fingers, though..." she winked at her and Sally chuckled, nodding and heading into the proverbial lion's den.

* * *

"Just these, Dev, thanks," Carla stated as she placed the tablets on the counter, and searching her purse for her wallet.

Dev watched her, "How are you?" He asked kindly, a tone of sympathy in his voice

Her eyes met his, and she nodded briefly, "I'm, surviving," she responded honestly

"Look, Carla," Dev pushed himself to his feet as he took the tablets from the table and checked the back for the price, "I know after everything that happened in September, that I wasn't very supportive of you,"

"Dev, you're running a business," she interrupted, "you can't be picking and choosing whose side to take and turning away customers," she twisted her lips and looked to the counter, "besides it's not like I blame anyone for believing him anyways, I've not exactly had the best reputation around here when it comes to men, 'ave I?"

"Yeah but the difference is, I know _you_. I don't know him," He sighed as he punched in the cost of the tablets, "And while I didn't turn you away from the business, I certainly didn't make you feel very welcome, and for that I apologize."

Carla nodded, hearing the door chime behind her as someone entered the shop, "thank you," she whispered.

"Well, it's no wonder our business is barely staying afloat, when the boss skives off to the shops before noon," Frank's voice boomed from behind her, and she felt herself go rigid as a shiver coursed up her body. Her eyes dropped to her wallet, as she fiddled with it to pull out her cash.

"Oh, I'm sure there are more factors at play than that, Frank," she responded snidely,

Dev's eyes remained on Carla, on her now shaking hands as she pulled out a note and handed it to him, "Yes, like perhaps how one of the owners tried to close up shop and leave all his staff out of jobs," he snapped, drawing the attention of Carla who looked shocked by his outburst

"Oh, spreading more lies about me then, has she?" Frank stated, standing directly behind Carla, and smirking as he felt her body stiffen at his closeness

"She hasn't had too; news travels fast around here Frank." Dev responded, placing the note in the register and counting out Carla's change, all the while glaring at the man behind her

"Oh come on, Dev, you're a businessman" Frank snickered and reached around Carla, deliberately brushing against her and delighting in the involuntarily jump he received in return, as he placed the juice on the counter, "it were only business, nothing personal. Just the juice, please Dev."

Dev handed the change back to Carla, and stood looking at Frank, before reaching over and taking the juice bottle and placing it under the counter, "perhaps you should find another place of business to purchase your juice," Dev said evenly,

"Are you serious?" Frank responded, his eyes blazing from Dev to Carla, who remained with her back to him, frozen to the spot between his body and the counter

"There are other shops," Dev said through gritted teeth.

Frank smiled and nodded his head, his eyebrows raising at this turn of events, "okay then," he stepped closer to the woman in front of him, placing one hand on the small of her back, and the other brushing the hair from her shoulder, as she remained stock still and unmoving, "see you at work," he whispered, his lips grazing the skin of her cheek, and she shuddered involuntarily, her eyes filling with unshed tears. Stepping away, with a smirk, Frank turned and walked out of the shop just as Sunita came out of the backroom,

"What were all that about?" she asked curiously

"Hey," Dev said, coming around the counter and placing a hand comfortingly on Carla's shoulder, "are you alright?"

Carla pushed away from him, reaching to the floor behind the counter, and grabbing his wastebasket and throwing up the bile that had risen to her throat,

Sunita leaned forward, grabbing Carla's hair supportively and pulling it back as the factory boss dropped to a crouch on the corner shop floor, as she continued to dry heave into the basket.

Sunita turned to her husband, "You better get Peter..."


	12. Chapter 12

Michelle sat in the office, watching as Carla urged Sally to go into the kitchen for her tea break and addressing her staff; her voice strong, determined, but with less of the 'Carla edge' that they had become accustomed to. As the factory boss headed out of the factory, she made quick eye contact with Michelle, giving her a small wave and a thin smile.

Michelle watched her friend's retreating figure. Carla's resilience never failing to surprise her; in fact, how she was still considered the 'ice queen' around the cobbles in spite of how easily she forgave those around her still remained a mystery. Even after everything she went through in her lifetime, Carla had an incredibly warm-hearted nature, hidden very well behind an icy exterior and a sarcastic mouth. Michelle's eyes drifted to the kitchen, to where Hayley offered Sally the milk for her tea, and how the staff slowly began to band together; obviously taking Carla's warning seriously.

Michelle couldn't help but narrow her eyes at the short, blonde woman. She shouldn't have been surprised at how Sally had reacted last fall, after all Sally Webster was known for her judgmental ways and her desire to get one over on those who wronged her. But she thought things were different between Sally and Carla following Sally's breast cancer diagnosis. Considering Carla had given Sally a fully paid leave, considering she kept her job open for her return, considering she had visited Sally, offered her support and reassurance - going above and beyond what any other 'boss' would have done -, when the tables had turned and Carla was at her lowest point, Sally instead had put Carla through the ringer. She accused her of lying about the rape and berated her publicly; she almost giddily went along with Frank in trying to destroy Carla's business and everything she had worked so hard for, not to mention allowing Frank to torture her in this very office following the verdict at the trial. And yet, when Frank Foster's mask well and truly slipped off, there was Carla: offering Sally her old job and encouraging her to not let Frank win, when anybody else in her position, Michelle included, would have waved her off to the nearest job centre without so much as a 'have a nice life'. Her friend had once again rose above the pain and the betrayal, putting up her walls and sealing them with a fresh coat of lippy.

She knew how good Carla was at putting up a front. Since the night Carla had been attacked in the bookies flat, Michelle had been unable to think of anything else. Her mind kept flashing back to the day in October when she and Ciaran had arrived back in Weatherfield. How they walked into Underworld, after Sean had given her cause for concern about the factory boss, to see her former sister-in-law sitting on her chair, her legs drawn up to her, a tumbler clutched in her hands, commenting on her and Ciaran's nice tans. They had tried to get it out of her, but in typical Carla fashion, she kept trying to brush it off...

_"Carla, tell us what's happened." Ciaran stated, laying a hand on her shoulder and feeling her involuntarily flinch beneath him._

_"Where to begin…" Carla breathed out, as Michelle made her way around the desk towards her. _

_"Try at the beginning." Ciaran pressed, letting out a sigh._

_"Come on, take your time." Michelle said quietly as she sat on the desk in front of her._

_Carla sighed and closed her eyes trying to control the tears that were threatening to fall, "I'm glad you guys are back," she said, her voice wavering with emotion. Michelle's stomach churned apprehensively, as she exchanged a glance with her fiancée, _

_"things have been a bit umm…" Carla continued_

_"Carla," Michelle whispered fearfully, "talk to me."_

_Ciaran leaned down closer to her, "we can't help you unless we know what's wrong." He whispered gently._

_"Oh you can't help me love." Carla chuckled humourlessly, "there's no fixing what Frank's done to me." Ciaran suddenly stiffened as it began to dawn on him: the way she was jumping at his touch, the way she curled herself into a ball, the hunched shoulders…_

_"Frank?" Michelle asked suspiciously, "Frank Foster?"_

_"Yup, the very same." Carla responded, "you always did have a good memory for names didn't you-"_

_"What has he done to you?" Michelle interrupted, fear rising in her heart. At Carla's downtrodden expression, Michelle pressed again, more forcefully "Carla what has he done?"_

_Michelle's heart sank as her sister-in-law's eyes rose to meet hers; the olive orbs relaying emotions that no words could express. Her sister-in-law was broken…_

_Michelle's heart sank._

_"no…"_

Michelle shivered, and she moved from the office door to the desk to pour herself a coffee from the French press Hayley had brought in minutes earlier. As she stood moments later, taking a sip from the steaming mug, her eyes drifted to her framed photo of her, Ryan, Liam, Carla, and Paul that sat on her small desk. She felt tears sting her eyes as they cast over it. It was one of her favourite photos of them all; they all looked blissfully happy, and at that time, they were. Carla looked like she was part of the family, and it was something she so rarely felt; something they rarely made her feel like. As she sat back down, her fingers plucking the frame off her desk, Michelle was brought back again to that night in October, to the back of the cab on the way back to Carla's flat and the moment when the factory boss finally bared her tired and damaged soul to her best friend...

_"You're doing it again 'Chelle," Her soft voice cut through the silence in the car as she turned her head to look into her best friend's eyes, allowing a soft smile to play upon her lips, "staring at me."_

_"I'm sorry Car, I can't help it." Michelle apologized, bringing Carla's hand to her lips and kissing her knuckles gently. "Why didn't you ring me?"_

_Carla leaned her head against the window, turning to look through the glass as she answered in barely a whisper, "I didn't want to be a burden."_

_"You would never be a burden to me babe!" Michelle stated, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, "You're my family. Other than my parents Carla, you, Ryan, Maria and little Liam are all I've got left." She whispered._

_"Yeah and we all know who's fault that is right Michelle?" Carla whispered, a hint of anger playing upon her words._

_"Eh?" Michelle pressed, and slightly recoiled when Carla turned to face her again, her green eyes flashing with unbridled hurt and anger._

_"Oh come on 'Chelle, you said it yourself that I was as much to blame for Liam's death as Tony was." Her words dripped with anguish._

_Michelle shook her head, wishing she could take back those words from two years prior, "Car-"_

_"No Michelle, you were right."_

_"No I wasn't!" Michelle screeched, as she unbuckled her belt and shifted closer to her sister-in-law. "Carla, you couldn't have known what Tony was planning to do; and yes you may have run away when he confessed but I understand why you did it; the man you loved admitted to you that he was a murderer, he even tried to kill you even though he promised you he would never hurt you."_

_"It don't matter Michelle," Carla choked out, looking out the window again, "if I had just forgiven Paul for cheating on me with them prostitutes, and not insisted on leaving him, he wouldn't have gotten drunk and behind the wheel of a car. He'd still be here with me," she sniffled softly, "in my arms. Tony wouldn't have happened, my affair with Liam would never have happened, and he would be settled down happily with Maria and little Liam. I've got both your brothers' blood on my hands 'Chelle. And they're stains I can never wash off."_

_"Carla, please love," Michelle pleaded as she put her arms around her shoulders and pulled her close to her, "please don't do this to yourself! None of this is your fault. Come on, where's the strong woman I once knew?"_

_"What the one 'made of iron?'" Carla snapped snidely, her eyes glaring into Michelle's. "The woman who never needed a 'safety net'?"_

_Michelle sighed deeply as guilt washed over her, her words to Carla following Paul's burial hitting her like a slap in the face. She wanted to slide back across the seat and give Carla her space, but she knew in her heart that her best friend needed to lash out at her. It was only fair; she'd lashed out at Carla plenty of times, justified in her mind or not. 'But Carla' Michelle thought sadly, 'Carla has never called me out for the horrible things I've done and said to her.'_

_Carla felt a rush of rage flowing through her as she stared at her sister-in-law. 'How dare she come back now and try to pick up the pieces,' she thought angrily, 'How dare she pretend that she always cared about me when for years she treated me like I were a pebble in her shoe.' She felt tears of frustration sting her eyes, 'she's always leaving me when I need her the most…', she rubbed her lips together apprehensively, 'everyone always leaves me…"_

_"When my Paul died," Carla started, swallowing the lump forming in her throat, "and we returned from his funeral, Liam did a runner…," she looked down to her hands, biting her lip nervously, "and then you left with Ryan. You all just left me here," she looked back to Michelle, her eyes brimming with tears, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders, "it were like I weren't suffering an' all, or maybe it was that my grief wasn't as important as your lot's was." Her eyes were fixed on her sister-in-law's, staring straight into her soul, her words cutting like a knife, "I had never felt more unloved and unwanted by your family then at that moment, and that is sayin' sommit 'Chelle." The tears cascaded down her face and Michelle felt her own begin to fall as well. Carla inhaled a ragged breath, "You all thought I was so tough, 'made of iron', 'tough-as-old-boots'…but I wasn't, I never was. Paul were my rock, and Liam were my foundation; and you, well you were my cement…you all kept me grounded." She whispered, a small smile forming on her lips, as she reached up to wipe away the tears falling down Michelle's cheek. "But you all left me" Carla swallowed the lump in her throat, "Don't you remember what you said to Steve on the phone...? 'I gotta look after myself and Ryan, I can't be bothered to look after Carla on top of it all. She can she look after herself. I don't need the burden right now.'"_

_Michelle closed her eyes and sighed, "You heard that?"_

_Carla nodded, "Yeah." She remembered standing outside Michelle's bedroom, hearing her sister-in-law justify her leaving Weatherfield to her then boyfriend, feeling her heart rip in two at the prospect of being a burden on the family that she loved more than herself._

_Michelle felt an overwhelming rush of guilt as she remembered Dean's death; how Paul and Liam were wrecks, unable to help comfort their sister and their nephew due to their own grief and guilt; both she and Carla had not known the crime her brothers had committed at the time. She remembered how it was Carla who never left her and Ryan's sides. She made sure they never had to worry about cooking, or doing the laundry. How even though she and Michelle used to snipe at each other long ago, their conflicts of the past were all but forgotten as Carla would stay with her long after they put Ryan to bed, hold her in her arms, and rock her softly as she cried and fell into a dreamless sleep. How she would awaken still lying in Carla's arms; how she felt so comforted and loved, and reassured that she would be able to pull through this horrible ordeal of losing Dean, all because she had someone there constantly to support her._

_She remembered the first time she laughed after they buried him, not thinking it would ever be possible again: her parents finally went back to Ireland and Michelle and Ryan had sat down to dinner with her brothers and sister-in-law. The dinner looked and tasted delicious, and Paul began pestering his wife in the kitchen as she cleaned up to spill the beans on how she suddenly acquired decent cooking skills. Carla finally cracked under the pressure, pulling out the takeaway containers from under the sink and mumbling "well I didn't think anyone at this table needed food poisoning on top of everything else." Ryan snorted first, and Michelle let loose a heartfelt laugh. Paul simply shook his head and smiled, and a tearful Liam reached over and pulled Carla into his embrace, kissing the top of her head and whispering something in her ear that no one else could make out. But the way he looked at her, and the way she looked at him…how Michelle didn't see it then was beyond her now..._

_Then Paul died, and though the two women were there for each other in the beginning, Michelle selfishly wanted to deal with her own guilt and grief. She justified to herself that Carla was strong enough to ride out the suffering alone; forgetting just how hard it really was to say goodbye to the man you called your partner for years. Michelle would cry in her own room, not realizing that just next door Carla was doing the same; wishing to be comforted the same way she had comforted Michelle years prior; but no one ever came, and she was too proud to ask. Michelle didn't think twice about leaving Carla behind to go to Ireland with Ryan, forgetting that Liam had left as well and Carla would have literally no one around her to support her the way she was supported when Dean passed. She left her to cope on her own…and Michelle began to wonder if she ever really dealt with the loss at all._

_"Funny enough, Steve was the only one who kept me going strong while you were away." Carla sniffled as she looked out the window, "I don't think I would be here if it weren't for him…I might have run away and never looked back: abandoned by the people I loved. The people that I just needed desperately to hold me…tell me everything would be alright; to prove that-" her bottom lip began to quiver and her voice cracked, "-that for once in my whole stinkin' life, I was actually part of a family that loved me." She let out a sob and furiously wiped the tears away with the back of her hand._

_Michelle shuffled closer to her and pulled her close, "You are love," she cried into her hair, "We all love you to bits, and our Liam and Paul loved you so much! I'm so sorry for leaving you when you needed me. I just keep doing it don't I?" She planted a kiss on the top of the woman's head, "Well not anymore. I promise you I will never leave you again." She grasped either side of Carla's face and pulled it so she was looking into her eyes, "Do you hear me Car? I'm never leaving you again!" _

And she had meant it. Everyone and their mother could see how fiercely protective of Carla she was since her return to Weatherfield. And while she almost did leave her to be with Ciaran, with Carla's blessing, she just couldn't bring herself to do it in the end. She remembered turning in the cab to see Carla and Maria standing together on the cobbles. Then as she told the cab driver to stop, her eyes darted immediately to the factory: and as the memories of Paul and Liam came rushing back to her, she remembered her promise. She wouldn't leave her again.

Michelle was startled back to the present as Carla made her way into the office with Sunita, her eyes watery, and her skin pale and clammy.

"Eh? What's happened?" Michelle practically screeched, leaping from her seat and helping Carla into her seat,

"I'm fine, 'Chelle," Carla stated, her voice shaky but firm. Michelle looked to Sunita

"Frank came into the shop. Apparently Dev refused his business, so before he left he got all up in Carla's personal space, and she were a bit sick when he left."

"That man never fails to empty me stomach, I'll give him that," Carla chuckled, as she dug through her purse for her makeup bag.

Michelle sighed at Carla's attempt at deflection, her sad eyes meeting Sunita's again

"We were going to get Peter, but Carla was adamant we didn't. I decided to walk her back myself and decided I would drop off some biscuits for your staff."

"That's kind of you Sunita, thanks." Michelle responded with a smile

"It's no problem," Sunita looked to Carla, "are you sure you don't want to me to nip out to the bookies?"

Carla rose her eyes to the shop owner, "No, please Sunita. I'll tell him later, 'cause if he finds out now..." her voice shook as the thought of Peter pummelling Frank into the ground and being arrested flashed across her mind

Sunita nodded, "I understand. Don't want to give Frank what he wants," With a smile she raised her carrier bag, "well, I'll drop these off to the staff then. Let us know if you need anything, Carla. I mean that."

"Cheers, love," Carla responded with a smile, "and thank Dev for me as well, please."

"Of course," With a nod to Michelle, Sunita headed out of the office.

"You okay?" Michelle asked, moving her chair to sit beside Carla, watching as her friend began touching up her makeup.

"Yeah, just a bit shaken but I'm fine. Best to get used to that, I suppose," she glanced across from her to Frank's desk, "I'm surprised he's not 'ere..."

Michelle scoffed, "Reckon he's trying to find a place that'll serve him around here. Might be a while..."

Carla popped one of the anti-nausea tablets in her mouth, washing it down with some coffee from Michelle's mug, before applying some more gloss to her lips.

"When is your meeting with Channing's?" Carla asked.

"Tomorrow morning," Michelle replied, "I'll probably stop in 'ere first, and then head out to meet them at theirs."

"Right," Carla stated as she stood up, grabbing the files from her desk, "I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to head to the Bistro and wait for Rory there."

Michelle nodded, before a smirk began pulling at her lips, "Eh, how long before Frank realizes we changed his passwords and restricted his access to the accounts?"

Carla's felt a heaviness in her stomach, "well when he gets here and reads the letter from my solicitor, he'll be ragin' that's for sure."

"Well like she said, we're perfectly within our rights to limit his access due to his breach of contract in attempting to push you out. The contract he, himself drew up."

"Yeah, I know," Carla exhaled and closed her eyes, "but he's not exactly a law abiding citizen, is he?" She opened her eyes and grasped Michelle's arm, "you promise me you will not be alone in this office with him when he gets back. Be out on that floor with the staff."

"Oh trust me Carla, I'm not stupid. In fact, I were going to log out of our computers and head out there now. I'd rather have witnesses around to catch him out of anything he might say."

Carla nodded, "Okay let's do that now, before I head out."

* * *

"Thanks for meeting me," Rory stated as he took a seat across from Carla an hour later, "I hope it's not too awkward for you, being back in here with me," he gestured around him.

Carla smiled warmly at him, "Not at all Rory, I'm glad you called and wanted to meet. I never really apologized for what happened last time - "

Rory leaned forward in his chair, "Don't," he interrupted her, "you don't apologize for what happened. It were a misunderstanding, but the only person who should apologize is me."

"Rory, you weren't to know," She whispered

"No, and I didn't," Rory said, sitting back, "and I'll admit I were taken aback by your reaction and I were angry and lashed out by pulling my business." His eyes softened and he pressed his lips together, his gaze really taking in the woman sat opposite him, "but when I did hear, it all started to make sense. I didn't reach out because I wasn't sure how you would react. And after the trial and hearing how Frank was back in the business, I didn't really want to be getting involved with him."

Carla nodded, a sinking feeling that she was about to lose Macnees as a client for good due to this mess with Frank, "I understand..."

"But I want to do business with _you_," Rory said, a smirk playing on his lips as Carla's eyes widened in surprise, "Hey, it's not often I get a reaction like that from you, is it?" he chuckled

Carla's lips tugged into a grin, "Really? You want to do business with Underworld?"

"If the price is right," Rory winked at her, before waving Nick over, "could I get a cappuccino, please, and ummm," he nodded to Carla

"Oh, a flat white, please Nick," She responded with a smile to the bistro owner, as she organized the files in front of her.

"Coming right up," Nick stated with a knowing look to Carla

Carla pulled out a piece of paper and placed it in front of Rory, as they both leaned forward, "'ave a look at this, then..."

* * *

Carla watched as Rory signed the contract, a large grin spreading across her face and oblivious to her phone flashing incessantly next to her, not vibrating or making a noise, as she had it silenced it for the meeting. "Well Carla, I'm really looking forward to working with you again," Rory said, "I'm glad we were able to put everything behind us."

"Me too," she said, as she slipped the files into her folder and her bag before reaching across the table and gently grasping his hand, "and really Rory, thank you, for being so understanding, and for looking past my reaction last fall -"

"Well isn't this a cozy little picture," Frank's voice sliced through the murmurs of diners behind her, and she jumped in shock, letting go of Rory's hand and knocking her cup off the table where it shattered into pieces on the Bistro floor, drawing the attention of all the customers, as well as the staff.

"What are you doing here?" Rory asked, his eyes flashing in anger at Frank.

"Well, I am part owner of Underworld, and whatever new business comes our way, I want to ensure everything is up to scratch." He placed both hands on Carla's shoulders and she flinched, but refused to move.

Rory's eyed dropped to Frank's hands and back up to Frank again, "we have it all under control, Frank. I prefer dealing with the organ grinder and not the monkey..."

Frank sneered slightly, but tried to maintain his composure under the eyes of all in the Bistro.

"Everything okay here?" Nick asked as he came to the table, his eyes also falling to Frank's hands on Carla's shoulders as his grip tightened and she winced in discomfort, "I think you best remove your hands," he warned as he pinned him with narrowing eyes

"Excuse me?" Frank asked,

"I said, remove your hands from her," Nick gritted out, "now." He felt Rory rise from his seat and stand next to him

"I'd do as he says, Foster."

Frank smirked, "or what, Rory? you'll pull your business?"

"Oh you would want that wouldn't you?" Rory sneered back, his eyes now lowering to Carla and offering her a hand, "Come on Carla, I'll walk you back to the factory."

As Carla went to stand up, Frank forcefully shoved her back down painfully into her seat, drawing the ire of Nick and Rory, "You're going to stay put, right where you are, darling..." he spat as she tried to keep her composure, but unable to stop the involuntary trembling that overtook her body, "I'm not even remotely finished with you yet..."


	13. Chapter 13

Frank continued to smirk at Nick and Rory, using the fact that they were in a restaurant full of witnesses to his advantage, as he continued to stand behind Carla, allowing his fingers to now gently caress her arms, before coming back to rest on her shoulders. He felt her body stiffen; heard her sharp intake of breath. He knew the effect he had on her; reducing this once strong woman to a vulnerable, terrified shell of herself. Knowing that he was the one to break her aroused him to no end. But from his vantage point, he could also see her reflection in one of the fixtures on the wall of the booth across from them. Her eyes were blazing, her jaw tightening.

She was getting angry. And oh, how he loved it when she got angry…

Nick and Rory stood across from them, neither wanting to risk angering Frank on the off chance he would lash out at the woman he was restraining to the chair by her shoulders. While Frank's gaze was diverted, Nick glanced over to Eva, who stood behind the bar; and without uttering a word, he nodded slightly to her. Understanding, she wordlessly picked up her mobile, and began typing a message...

Rory could feel the rage inside of him building. After hearing about the rape through the grapevine from other business associates of Underworld, he began to understand why Carla had reacted the way she did to his flirtations back in October. But witnessing the scene unfolding in front of him now, completely drove it all home at just how much she had been, and was, suffering: The woman was being tormented. He could see the mixture of anger and fear dancing across Carla's face, and he wanted nothing more than to rip Foster's hands off of her, but he had known Frank for a long time now. He knew the slippery bastard was unpredictable, and the last thing he wanted on his conscience was having Carla come to more harm because of his actions.

So there he and the Bistro owner stood; unable to do anything but watch intently as Frank leaned his body down close to Carla's rigid, yet trembling one.

She felt him run his eyes slowly up and down her body and for the second time that day, felt sick to her stomach. She wanted to turn and run, putting as much space, and possibly a few locked doors, between them as possible. _'Come on, Connor," _her mind berated her_, "…it isn't just you and him alone in a flat anymore with him holding all the cards and all the control…'_ She felt a rush of strength course through her: This was the second time today that he caught her off guard, and she had had enough! She needed to make a stand; prove that he would never have the control over her that he so desired.

She sat a little straighter before finally speaking with a surprisingly steady voice, "what do you want?"

"You know what I want…" Frank answered seductively.

She scoffed, "Dream on," she retorted, her eyebrow raising pointedly as she attempted to shake his hands off her shoulders.

"Oh I will sweetheart," Frank smirked, whispering so only she could hear him, moving his finger up to flick her hair over her shoulder, feeling her tighten at his movements. His eyes trailed down her body, "you see, my dreams offer the perfect little bubbles to house my wants and desires. Which is why they are the perfect place to keep you," He leaned ever nearer so his lips were close to her cheek, his eyes boring into to her face, watching as she tried desperately to maintain her composure and he spoke a little louder so Rory and Nick could hear him, "you might think you have the upper hand right now, trying to force me out of Underworld through breach of contract, but I assure you my dear, I'm going nowhere," he smiled at her almost possessively as he ran his hand down her arm, no longer caring if the two men in front of him heard him, "You and that factory you love so much are mine; and as you know Carla, I always get what's mine in the end."

She had started to feel proud of herself; she had been doing well in her attempt to stand her ground with him without wishing that someone would simply step in and pull her away. But the feel of his finger edging down her arm and brushing over the bruise that lingered on her wrist had been unexpected, and she felt her confidence slip away as quickly as it had resurfaced.

She didn't think he'd be so brazen as to openly threaten and touch her in a room full of witnesses. His brashness and smoldering arrogance proved just how determined he was to have her, and it suddenly became too much to bear; "don't," she whispered in terror as she yanked herself away from him, pushing herself off her chair quickly, only to slide on a piece of her broken coffee cup that had shattered earlier. Losing her footing she fell sideways, throwing her arm out desperately to steady herself, and flipping her body so she was sitting, like a frightened prey, her arms splayed behind her as she kept her eyes fixed on him, her breathing erratic.

Panic set in as Frank watched her fall. This wasn't what he intended to happen, and trying to fix the mistake he made, Frank reached out to try to help her up. Her eyes widened in fear as she saw his hands reaching for her and she let out a gasp as she scampered backwards into the bar behind her, her knees drawing up in front of her as she made herself as small as possible, jolting in fright as a hand placed itself on her shoulder and a soft voice spoke to her, "it's okay Carla, it's me," Rory said gently to her, "you're okay. Can you stand?" She nodded slightly, her eyes unmoving from the scene playing out in front of her; watching as an incensed Nick viciously hauled Frank up by the lapels of his jacket.

"I warned you what would happen if you didn't take your hands off her, didn't I?" Nick's voice ground out ferociously into Frank's face as he gave the man he held a shake. His feet were dangling just above the floor, but Carla had her gaze focused solely on her tormentor's eyes; she could see the slight twinkle there, and she suddenly knew his game.

"Nick," she called to him gently, her voice shaky and wavering, "don't, please." Nick slowly glanced over his shoulder to the floor behind him where Carla was hunched over, Eva and Rory crouching on either side of her. His eyes met hers and she gave him a small shake of her head, her eyes damp with unshed tears and her lips pressing together apprehensively, "don't do it. It's what he wants," she whispered. Nick glanced back to the man dangling before him, feeling an intense urge to pummel him until he felt satisfied. "Please Nick," Carla's voice pleaded with him, "please just let him go." With a final scoff of disdain to Frank, Nick pulled him closer to him and sneered, "Get out!" before lowering him to the ground, planting him back down on his feet with a shove.

Frank stumbled backwards and immediately adjusted his suit jacket cockily, before peering around the Bistro owner and locking his gaze on the cowering woman he desired, "still keeping up with the victim act eh Carla?" He shook his head slightly, his lips pursing, "when are you going to realize that you haven't got a leg to stand on anymore. I was cleared in a court of law, and all you're doing now, is making a right show of yourself. You know, soon," he gestured around the Bistro, "everyone around here will see right through your pathetic little performance."

"I thought I told you to get out," Nick stated angrily stepping into his line of vision.

As Frank turned his head to acknowledge him harshly, he was startled as the Bistro doors flung open and his eyes landed on a now murderous looking Peter, who had entered the restaurant closely followed by Michelle. He raised his hands in mock surrender, keeping his innocent act up, "Fine, I'm going." He turned to look at Carla, who was now standing and being flanked by Eva and Rory, "we'll discuss how to proceed with Underworld another time then Carla. Perhaps when you are not so hysterical and in such desperate need of attention." With that he turned to exit the restaurant, offering a smirk to Peter as he did so.

"I'd keep my eye on them two if I were you, Peter," he said, gesturing to Nick and Carla, "he seems as keen to fight for her as you were, you know, when you _'weren't together'_..."

"Out!" Nick shouted, as Peter's eyes darted between Frank and Nick,

Frank leaned in slightly to Peter, "hey, maybe she's just been using you all along, the same way she used me..."

Peter made to launch at him, but Michelle threw her hands in front of him, "Don't Peter, it's what he wants you to do..."

Frank gave a chuckle, "don't say I didn't warn you, Peter!" he tutted before exiting the Bistro.

"What the hell happened?" Peter thundered shaking Michelle's hands off him, watching as Carla leaned her elbows on the bar, her head collapsing into her hands, and his eyes blazed between Nick and Rory

"Carla and I were finishing up our meeting when Frank showed up," Rory explained, "he started trying to intimidate her, and she went to pull away and slipped on the floor. Nick here," he patted the Bistro owner on the shoulder, "was just about to pummel him but Carla knew that's what he was gunning for. That's when you came in."

"Car, I tried to warn you," Michelle breathed out, leaning on the bar next to Carla and rubbing her back supportively, "he figured out about the breach of contract when he went into the office and couldn't access the accounts. He saw the letter, and he stormed out of the factory, saying he wasn't going to let you get away with it."

"I think you need to go to the police, Carla." Rory stated, "Surely his threats toward you warrant a restraining order at least."

"I agree," Nick said as he walked around the bar and leaned forward on his elbows, "Are you okay?" He asked kindly, ignoring the suspicious look being thrown at him by the bookie.

Carla raised her head, her fingers running through her hair and she nodded, "Yeah," she answered quietly, offering him a thankful smile

She felt Peter stand on the other side of her, his hands rubbing her back and he inched her towards him, "did he hurt you, love?"

She turned towards him, her eyes locking on his and he almost gasped at how exhausted she looked, "no, he just got under me skin again, that's all."

"You sure?" he cupped her face, his thumb brushing along her cheek

"I'm sure," she breathed out

"Come here," he pulled her into his embrace, his hands enveloping her body and he exhaled in frustration before locking eyes on Nick, "Thanks," he said almost painfully, "I owe you one."

"Don't mention it," Nick responded, waving him off as his concerned eyes remained on his former business partner.

Carla pulled back from Peter, and turned to face Rory, "I'm sorry for all this," she said, her fingers running through her hair again, "I understand if you want to pull out of the contract -"

"Don't be daft," Rory interrupted her, "I'm not letting that slimy bastard get what he wants." At her grateful smile, he gestured to the door, "look, I'll see if I can pop in early next week and you can show me the fabrics you were telling me about, and we can talk dates and deadlines then, yeah?"

"Okay," she tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled at the floor, "Thanks Rory, for everything."

Rory stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder, "It was a pleasure. I'm glad we're in business again," he winked at her, "I'll see you next week," he turned to Peter, and offered his hand, "take care of her, yeah?"

"Always." Peter responded, shaking the man's hand firmly, watching as he nodded towards Nick and Michelle before leaving the Bistro.

"Maybe you should call it a day, Car," Michelle said, "Hayley and I can handle things at the factory for the last couple of hours; go and rest up, okay?"

Carla shook her head, "no, I'll just be sat there going over everything in me mind," she sighed, rubbing her head slightly, "I'd rather get my head stuck into work,"

"Is that wise, love? What if he goes into the factory now?" Peter asked,

"You can stay here," Nick offered, feeling all eyes turn to him, "he's not going to come back in here and you've got your laptop with you. You can work in my office, if you prefer the quiet."

Carla smiled at Nick and nodded, "you know I could do with another flat white, if you're offering?"

Nick chuckled, "coming right up, madam" he mock saluted her,

Carla turned to Peter, his jealous gaze not missed by her, "hey," she whispered, turning his chin gently with her fingers, "Frank's messing with your head. Don't let him come between us; not when I need you..." her voice broke, and he lovingly caressed her hair and smiled at her, "look, I'm going to take Nick up on his offer to stay here and finish up some work," she said, "why don't you finish up at the bookies, and then come and get me, okay?"

"You sure love?" he asked her

"I'm sure." She smiled at him.

"Okay," he pressed a kiss to her lips, before pulling back slightly, "oh, Simon forgot that he's got a sleepover tonight at a mate's, so Leanne's gonna drop him off tomorrow after school and he and I are gonna hit the pool," he leaned his forehead against hers, "which means we have the room all to ourselves again tonight," he whispered seductively, "so we can order some room service, I can run you a nice bath, give you a massage...anything you want."

She smiled and kissed his lips softly, "I just want you..."

"Then me it is..." he kissed her once more, smiling before he headed back to the bookies.

Carla sighed and looked at Michelle, gesturing for her to sit down with her in a nearby booth, "so come on, then," she prodded, "what exactly happened when he came into the factory..."


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: Please note: this chapter contains possibly triggering subject matter, detailing a victim of sexual assault undergoing a post-traumatic stress disorder**__** episode.**_

_** Reader discretion is advised.**_

* * *

The morning sunlight peered in through the curtains he could have sworn he had pulled closed the night before. Peter's eyes fluttered open and he squinted against the bright rays that shone hotly on his face. He turned his head away from the sun and onto the woman lying curled against his side; her head lay tenderly upon his chest, her hand resting delicately upon his stomach. The sun's rays shone just above her face upon her dark brown hair, bringing about flecks of warm gold tones to the near black tresses. He could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing as her breasts rose and pushed gently into his ribs when she inhaled, before lowering again as she exhaled; her warm breath softly tickling his bare skin.

With tremendous ease, he slid a little further down into the mattress smiling as he saw the sunbeams edging farther above Carla's head and away from her eyes. She let out a soft moan and mumbled incoherently before snuggling closer to his body. Pressing a gentle kiss to her hair, Peter pulled her ever nearer to him and patiently awaited for her to awaken naturally, remembering the rough, and emotionally draining night they had endured.

He wasn't sure where things went wrong...

_He had kept his word upon their arriving back at the hotel; he had run her a bath and gave her some privacy as she settled into the tub. He ordered room service as she bathed, listening to some music, as her sore and tired muscles loosened up in the heat of the water. Afterwards, they sat together, her in a fluffy white robe with her damp hair gently framing her face, and ate their dinner in silence. He couldn't help but gaze at her, taking in the sadness she tried to mask behind her lopsided smile. He wanted nothing more than to envelop her in his arms and protect her from any danger that threatened to harm her; to take away all her sadness and hear her dirty giggle once more..._

_An hour later, saw them curled up on the bed, idly watching some romantic comedy on the TV. Peter felt Carla shift slightly next to him, pressing her body closer to his, her hand lazily trailing along his jawline, before her fingers slid downwards, deftly unbuttoning his shirt and caressing the bare skin of his chest. Peter lowered his head to look at her as she raised her head to look at him. Her eyes glanced between his eyes and his lips, and she leaned up until her lips hovered over his. Her tongue darted along his upper lip before capturing it between her own. Peter's hands cupped her head, his fingers tangling into her hair as he returned her kiss. Carla's hand began to inch lower, tugging at his belt and he grasped her hand to halt her._

_"Love," he whispered, his other hand caressing her hair and cupping her cheek, "we don't have-"_

_"No, Peter," she whispered, "Please. I want to."_

_"Are you sure?" he asked gently, worried it may be too soon_

_"I'm sure," she answered, kissing his lips gently, "You just have to be a bit gentle; you know, bruised ribs and all," she giggled slightly, then her eyes pleaded with his at his hesitancy, "please Peter," she kissed him again, "I just want to forget..."_

_He softly kissed her again, his arms encircling her body and being careful not to hold her too tightly_

_He lay her back gently on the bed, keeping his arms wrapped around her. Their kisses became fevered and hungry. As he began to open the ties of her robe, he felt her body go rigid. He raised his head from hers to look into her eyes, and gently cupped her cheek,_

_"If you want to stop, we'll stop."_

_She shook her head, "I don't want to stop." Her voice was just above a whisper but it was strong._

_He nodded his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, "If you change your mind, we will stop whenever you want to, okay love? I promise."_

_She nodded her understanding and leaned up to capture his lips with hers._

_He made sure to move slow. His eyes were lovingly taking in every inch of her, as he removed his shirt and jeans. He lay next to her, caressing her body gently, laying gentle kisses on her lips, her eyelids, her neck. She moaned in response to his touches._

_He moved to kneel between her legs, removing her underwear, and pushing the robe off her shoulders and tossing it onto the floor beside them. She began to involuntarily tremble beneath him, and he leaned over her, kissing her lips softly but passionately in reassurance. She wrapped her arms around him; her fingers gently grazing his back and he let out a gasp at her touch, pushing his boxers off. He looked into her eyes, which were wet with desire, and lovingly stroked her arm that now held the back of his head. He felt her body tense and shudder as he eased into her. She moaned in response, and bit her lip to steady her breathing._

_He caressed her arm, "do you want to stop?" he asked softly, but she shook her head._

_"No, I want this…I want you." She whispered._

_He kissed her lips and eased deeper into her; moving in a slow gentle rhythm as she began to relax in his arms. Her legs that clung to him almost apprehensively at first, now loosened their grip on his thighs and allowed him deeper access. He hadn't been this nervous about having sex with her since their first time together. He had held her as delicately as he could that night; treating her as though she were a piece of glass. He asked her continuously if she was okay, if she wanted to continue or wanted to stop. She came close to wanting to stop, and they had paused for a few minutes, just laying next to each other and holding one another, until she wanted to continue._

_Tonight felt oddly similar to him; she was determined to prove she was okay, but he wanted to ensure she was, every step of the way. She felt so good that it took every bit of control he had to not go quicker. Instead he continued caressing her gently and kissing her passionately as he wrapped his arms under her shoulders, holding her ever closer to him. Her breaths became labored, and soft moans emitted from her, as she threw her head back. He lay kisses along her neck and jawline, causing her to gasp in desire. He felt her hands cling to his shoulders and he looked into her eyes._

_He continued to thrust in and out of her, steadily but gently, but he could feel she was struggling to fully relax. Her face was furrowed in frustration; as amazing as Peter felt inside her, she wasn't getting close to an orgasm. She knew why: her mind was in overdrive. Her mind kept flashing back to her nightmare the night before. How Frank had infiltrated one of her fondest and most intimate memories of her and Paul. He was everywhere, and she couldn't shake him or his veiled warning from a few weeks ago in the darkness of the factory, from her mind no matter how hard she tried..._

**_"I do love the affect I have on you, darling."_**

**_"I'm not your darling." she gritted out, as she made her way slowly around to the machines_**

**_"Oh but you are, Carla." He stated maliciously, "You're mine in every way, shape and form."_**

**_"I'll never be yours, Frank." She whispered._**

**_"Oh really? Tell me darling," he began, his voice taking on a patronizing air, "have you managed to get me out of your head yet?" Despite the silence on her end, he knew her well enough to know he touched a nerve. He could practically see her face drain of colour, and when she remained silent, he smirked, "Has that spot he resided in for over a year, now become occupied by me, hmm?"_**

**_She couldn't respond. She simply stared straight ahead; her heart pounding in her chest, and her body began to tremble with anger._**

**_"You see my dear, you are mine no matter how much you try to deny it." His voice, though barely above a whisper, thundered in her ears, "I have ensured that you will never be rid of me; because I finally did what you couldn't do…I got that alcoholic bookie out of your head once and for all, even if he is in your sheets. From now on, every time he looks at you, you'll see me. Every time he touches you, you'll feel me…" She swallowed down the lump of bile rising in her throat, hating the truthfulness behind his malicious words, "So you see Carla: you will never be rid of me, ever. I will be there at your happiest of times, and at your most intimate of moments…you are mine, and mine alone."..._**

_She desperately needed to have Peter make love to her. She needed to feel wanted and loved. To feel treasured, and desired. She wanted so badly to prove that Frank was wrong: to prove that she wasn't his._

_Peter knew she was getting frustrated; he could feel her tensing, her body losing its aroused state, as well as her lubrication, as her mind continued to torment her. Where he normally would have begun a faster, slightly more aggressive rhythm, due to her healing injuries coupled with her fragile state of mind, he decided to take a different approach. He brushed one of his hands gently down her body, inching lower between their two bodies._

_Just as she was about to give up reaching that peak, she felt that pleasurable heat again spreading through her body; she slowly started to become wet again at his touch, his fingers teasing and applying gentle pressure on her bud. She moaned as she relaxed further against his touch; his thumb continuing to apply pressure on her clit as he kissed her lips, and she whimpered against him as she raised her hands to his head, her back arching against him, as he pleasured her with his thumb while steadily thrusting into her._

_"Look at me love," Peter whispered, "let me see you..."._

_Carla slowly opened her eyes, wanting so desperately to gaze into the soft warm orbs of the man she loved and felt safe with..._

**_'...every time he looks at you, you'll see me...'_**

_As if struck by a sudden paralysis, Carla could not shift her eyes from the man above her. Terror began to set in, as she no longer saw Peter, but Frank; his fingers lightly grazing her hot flesh, his thumb circling her clit as he smirked down at her._

_Her eyes darted around the room in panic but was greeted with his triumphant look as his thumb continued to apply pressure, and she could feel her body begin to quake. He smiled down at her as he rubbed her clit faster and faster, thrusting deeper into her as she began to climax. Her head began rolling from side to side as she tried to will her orgasm to not occur._

**_'...every time he touches you, you'll feel me…'_**

_'No no no…' she panicked, and started to wriggle beneath him; her injured body twisting painfully in an attempt to wrench herself free, but it was no use: She could no longer hold back. She reached up around him, her fingers digging into his back, as she cried out, her orgasm taking over her entire body, while he moaned in satisfaction. _

**_'...you are mine, and mine alone...'_**

_Before she could stop herself she burst into sobs._

_"Carla...?" Peter called to her, removing himself from her immediately, his hands grasping her face as she cried, "what is it? Did I hurt you?"_

_"Frank, no please..." she cried, her eyes squeezing shut ever tighter, and Peter felt his heart snap in two._

_"Carla!" He gave her a steady shake, "Open your eyes, love," _

_She shook her head, her hands still pushing against his shoulders, "no more..." she gasped between sobs_

_"Please, love, look at me! It's me! It's Peter!" he cupped her cheek lovingly, "it's your Peter..."_

_She couldn't hear his voice over her sobs. She was in the midst of a panic attack, and Peter felt utterly helpless. His own eyes now lining with tears, he did the only thing he could think of to calm her down; brushing his thumb across her cheek, he leaned a little closer to her, his voice cracking as he whispered, "fly me to the moon, Car. Come on, love," he began to gently sing the lyrics that they had sung together over a year and a half ago in the ginnel, hoping it would spark her memory, "fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars..."_

_Carla's eyes fluttered open, her watery gaze focusing on the heartbroken face of Peter as he hovered above her. She exhaled heavily, her eyes overflowing again as her hands lifted from his shoulders to cup his face, "Peter..." she hoarsely whispered_

_"Yeah," he sniffed, his forehead pressing into hers gently, "it's me, beautiful," Peter's voice cracked, "it's okay, you're safe with me," he assured her, rolling onto his side and pulling her carefully into him, "it's okay..."_

_"Peter, I-I -" she cried into his chest,_

_"shhh," he stroked her hair, and placed kisses along her forehead, his heart breaking with every sob that emitted from her lips, "everything's going to be okay. I promise..." _

_He held her in the same position for the next few hours until she slipped into a tear-filled, exhausted sleep. He kissed her head, and continued to pull her closer to his body as he himself began to drift off; afraid that if he let go, she'd be ripped from his arms forever._

* * *

He was shaken from his memories as she stirred and sighed heavily against him. Her long eyelashes fluttered open, gently grazing his bare chest and he instinctively hugged her tighter to him. Lifting her head so her chin now rested just under his collarbone, she fixed her tired green eyes onto his soft brown ones and a slow, lopsided smile spread across her face.

"Morning," she whispered, "how long have you been up?"

"Only about fifteen minutes or so love," he responded as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you," he mumbled against her temple. "do you want to talk about last night?"

Carla shook her head, "not really," she responded firmly,

"Carla-" Peter began,

"Peter, I'm not bottling it up, I promise," she sighed, "I mean, I just don't want to go over every detail. I have to just accept that it's bound to happen, don't I? Having these lapses where he's just everywhere. I mean, Peter the night of the tram crash anniversary," she sighed deeply, "the night you first told me you loved me, it happened then. I was so insanely happy at that moment, I just felt so loved and safe. But then you pushed me against the wall and suddenly it weren't you anymore; it were just him. I mean, if it happened when I was in a happy, content place, it were bound to happen after the day I had yesterday; with him tormenting me in the shop and then in the Bistro..." she cupped his face, tears welling in her eyes as she spoke, "I should have known better than to try to push it all down like nothing happened. I'm sorry I ruined everything last night,"

"No," Peter shook his head, his hands holding her closer to him, "you didn't ruin anything-"

"I did, though," she argued back, "I did, Peter, because I refused to talk to you about it when we got back here." Her eyes pleaded with him to understand, "I shouldn't have tried to brush it off. I should have told you how scared I was-" she shook her head, "no: how scared I _am - _scared that he were right, Peter: that I belong to him, that my mind will always belong to him, now_." _She looked away from him briefly, inhaling as she tried to control the tears that threatened to fall, "Maybe, if I had, then it wouldn't have taken over my mind the way it did, and I wouldn't have proved him right." She opened her eyes and gazed upon Peter again, "You know, Tony took away a chance at love for me with Liam. He literally removed him from my life. I won't let Frank do the same. I won't let him take over my life anymore, Peter. I won't let him ruin us. I won't let him ruin love for me by giving him his own private playground up here, anymore…" she tapped her head, "I can't do it. I can't lose you…"

Peter pulled her to him, pressing his lips gently against hers, "you won't lose me, Car," he whispered, "and I won't let him pull you away from me." He cupped her face, brushing her hair with his hand, "You're my right arm, Carla. I love you more than anything in this world," he kissed her forehead, "just promise you'll open up to me from now on: that you won't bottle everything up anymore."

She rested her chin on her hand that laid upon his chest, and nodded, "I promise."

They lay there for another half hour, snuggling closer into one another's embrace, until she finally broke the silence, "I should get up. Got to get myself into work; make sure Kirk hasn't packaged up 'alf the staff and shipped them to Timbuktu."

Peter gave a chuckle and accepted the chaste kiss she planted on his lips. He watched as she carefully swung her legs over the mattress and rose from the bed with a cat like stretch. Looking back towards him she gave a warm smile and plucked her robe off the chair.

"I'll order us a bit of breakfast, yeah?" he asked as he reluctantly pushed the covers off of him and rose to his feet.

"I've got a better idea," Carla purred with a smile, "how's about I treat you to a bacon butty at the café on the way to work?"

"Oh yeah? Getting your appetite back?" he asked, as he wrapped his arms delicately around her waist and swaying her back and forth,

She smiled as she placed her hands lovingly on either side of his face, "no," she answered with a gentle shake of her head, "just finally getting myself back…"


	15. Chapter 15

"Morning," Carla greeted the workers as they huddled on the steps of the factory,

"Morning, Mrs. Connor," came the cheerful replies

"Morning, Mrs. C!" Kirk responded as Carla breezed past him and unlocked the factory doors, "do you want me to take that for you?" he asked, pointing to the box of cakes she had in her hands

"Cheers, Kirky," she smiled back, handing him the box she had picked up from Roy's as her staff filed into the factory after him

"Morning!" Nick called to Carla, pausing on his walk past the factory to the Bistro, and detouring to head towards her, "you certainly look brighter this morning!"

Carla smiled towards him, stepping down the steps and meeting him halfway up the loading bay, "Yeah, I feel a bit brighter today and all," she responded, "Look, I never really got a chance to properly thank you for yesterday. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," Nick answered waving his hand at her, "what are friends for?"

Carla chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest, "Oh aye? Is that what we are, Nick? Friends? I mean, it weren't just over a year ago that you hated my guts. 'Mount Everest', I believe you called me?"

Nick laughed along with her, "Oh, come on," he teased her playfully, "I think you know very well that I never hated you, even though you were a bit bitchy..."

"Yeah, well I never hated you either; even though you were right smarmy little so and so," Carla said with a wink, "Honestly Nick, I'm glad we stayed on good terms after everything that happened with us and this place. If you hadn't of helped Michelle last October when I went to L.A..." she drifted off, shaking her head, "and I couldn't imagine what would have happened yesterday if you weren't there."

"Don't mention it, it's the least I could do," Nick dropped his gaze to the pavement below his feet, his voice lowering to just above a whisper, "I always blame myself you know," he said in a low voice, "for Frank..."

"What?" Carla asked astounded, "Nick, why?"

"Carla, if I hadn't forced you to buy me out after everything with Tony and trying to rebuild this place, you wouldn't have been so desperate for his investment." Nick replied with a sigh, "he would have just been a client, and I could have dealt with him myself. If nothing else, I might have been there to protect you. I'll always hold some guilt for bringing him into your life..."

"Don't Nick. Please?" Carla shook her head, offering him an encouraging smile, "don't blame yourself. Frank would have found a way to do what he did regardless of you being here or not."

"What do you mean?" Nick furrowed his brow questioningly at her.

"He admitted it to me," She shrugged, "told me he purposely drove a wedge between Maria and I so that it were just me and him; I mean he even tried to isolate me from my brother after me mum's will reading," she wrapped her arms around herself almost protectively, "He wanted to control me, Nick. He knew what he was capable of doing all along if I resisted him long enough. He knew what happened at the wedding blessing. He knew about my feelings for Peter all along, and he played on it. He told me I was the 'fly to his spider', and he's been threatening to and almost succeeded in attacking me again. Twice. So Nick, please, don't blame yourself for any of this. Whether we were still business partners, or even if I were in a relationship at the time, he wanted to own me. He wants to be the one to break me. He would have found a way to do what he did, no matter what obstacles were in his way..."

"What do you mean he almost succeeded in attacking you again, _twice_?" Nick asked, his voice dangerously low and pulsing with thinly veiled anger, "I mean we all suspected that it was him that broke into the flat that night, but when was the other time?"

Carla sighed, "a few hours earlier that evening in the factory," She was hesitant to open up to Nick about it, but she hated that yet another person was blaming themselves for what Frank had done to her, and felt that by being honest with him about Frank's actions a few days prior, would perhaps rid him of the guilt he was feeling, "I confronted him; wanting to know what I had done to him that was so horrible. I told him I wanted to hear him admit what he did to me, and he did. But again, I was overpowered by him and he pinned me against the railing. He taunted me with it; told me how he screwed me twice, and asked if I fancied going for the 'hat trick'. I don't know how but I somehow managed to break away from him and legged it out of there."

"Carla," Nick stepped forward, placing both hands on her shoulders and feeling her shudder involuntarily beneath his touch, "you should not be in that factory with him. You need to get a restraining order." At her hesitation he lifted her chin upwards with his thumb and forefinger, and continued, "Carla, I'm concerned for you. And if I am, I can guarantee you that Peter must be going out of his mind with worry. Please? You need to get some distance between yourself and that sociopath!"

"I'm working on it, Nick," Carla breathed out, raising her eyes to meet his, "I promise I am. I have a meeting with my solicitor at 2:00 today at the Bistro, but I'm not holding my breath."

The sound of a camera clicking caused them both to turn their heads sharply towards The Kabin, where a cocky Frank lowered his phone and grinned at them.

"Well, well, well," he leaned back into the window of the corner shop, crossing one ankle over the other, "Talk about being in the right place at the right time. I mean, I was only trying to wind Peter up yesterday by saying you two were going at it behind his back, but who knew I was right all along, eh?"

Carla shook her head at him and turned back to Nick, "just ignore him," she said, before pulling him in for a hug, "thank you again for everything, I really mean it."

Frank watched as Nick's arms wrapped around Carla, his one hand coming up to cradle her head against him; enveloping her in a cocoon of safety, and he felt a pang of envy course through him. He knew the Bistro owner and Carla were just friends, but it didn't matter. It never mattered when it came to _his_ Carla. She was in another man's arms and not his, and that was unacceptable to Frank. It never seemed to register in his mind that was him: that he had ruined any chance of ever being with her again when he forced himself on her that night in September. He couldn't accept that he had done anything wrong; he had been angry and punished her. Tit for tat. In his rationale, she had deserved it, and he was under the delusion that she would she break eventually and see that; that she would ultimately see sense. He was the one for her: he knew it, and soon enough, she would too.

His jaw twitched as Nick stroked Carla's hair, their hug lasting only seconds but feeling like hours to Frank. He couldn't contain it anymore: he was obsessed with her and he knew it; with needing to control her. Normally he could restrain it behind his front of calmness: respectable, businessman Frank: suit and tie, smiles and chivalry. Until the moment he saw her in any man's arms, that is. It was enough to throw his control out the window and be overtaken by a pulsing jealous rage that completely overpowered his senses.

"Hey!" he shouted, stepping forward before he could even stop himself, "get your hands off of her!"

Nick spun to face Frank, instinctively pushing Carla behind him, "You what?"

"Nick-" Carla tried to pull him away, but he thrust his arm in front of her protectively

"_You're_ telling _me_, to take _my_ hands off of _her_?" Nick asked incredulously,

"Yeah, I am!" Frank stepped in closer to Nick

The younger man laughed, "Oh, you've finally gone whole hazelnuts, haven't you?"

"What did you say?" Frank glared angrily, the same glint in his eye that he had when he accosted Carla in the bookies flat, and she felt herself take a cautious step back as if to brace herself

"Think you're the 'big-I-am', don't you?" Nick prodded, "Attacking and overpowering a woman nearly half your height and strength? Why don't you bully someone your own size..."

"Like, who? You?" Frank smirked

Nick leaned forward, his eyebrows raising, "Try me..."

"Nick, please-" Carla tried again

"I'd listen to her, if I were you," Frank lowered his voice, "she knows what I'm capable of..."

"I beg your pardon?" Nick stepped into Frank's personal space, thoroughly understanding Peter's constant need to pummel the pompous ass into the pavement

"Whoa! Easy there Nick, you misunderstand me," Frank chuckled, "As I told Peter all those months ago: I only gave her what she deserved, after all..."

Nick threw his weight forward pressing his palms against Frank's chest and shoving him back sharply, drawing the attention of the mechanics in Webster's Garage,

"Ohh little jealous there, are we, Nick?" Frank taunted him, brushing his chest mockingly

"Kev!" Tommy called out to his boss, grabbing a towel to wipe the grease off his hands

"Don't worry, I'm sure she'll be more than happy to oblige the fantasies you've had of her for years," Frank said, as he stepped closer to the Bistro owner, "I can promise you, you won't be disappointed, she's quite the spitfire during sex..." he lowered his voice so only Nick and Carla could hear him, his eyes now thoroughly pinned on her, "even when she doesn't want it..."

Frank's head cracked to the side as Nick's fist connected painfully against his cheek. Before Frank could get his bearings, the Bistro owner had jumped on top of him before his body fully hit the cobbles below, holding the lapel of Frank's suit firmly in his hand to steady him as he crouched over him, landing another belter of a punch to his face.

"Oi!" Tommy shouted as he broke into a run, pulling Nick up to his feet before he could land a third hit as Kevin stood between them, pushing Frank angrily back down to the pavement as he tried to get up "Stay there!" he shouted at him, as Frank held his stinging cheek, his lips curling into a smile as the car that pulled into the loading bay now blared its sirens and flashed its lights.

Carla pulled Nick backwards towards the factory, her hands gripping around his arm as the police car came to a stop in front of them.

She felt her heart sink as DC Malone stepped out of the vehicle, her eyes immediately falling onto Carla

"Ahh officer Malone," Frank sputtered, spitting blood onto the ground as he pushed himself to a standing position, "I'd like to press charges against that man," he pointed to Nick, "for assault!"

DC Malone eyed Nick up and down for a brief moment before turning to Face Frank, "That'll have to wait, I'm afraid." she stated

"What do you mean?" Frank asked,

"Frank Foster, I'm arresting you for the assault and attempted rape of Carla Connor," DC Malone stated firmly, as another officer grabbed Frank's arms and twisted them behind his back,

"Not this again!" Frank stated, his eyes blaring into Carla,

"You do not have to say anything-,"

"you are a piece of work, you know that Carla?""

"But it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Frank acquiesced, his eyes still glued onto the perplexed woman standing next to Nick

"Put him in the car, I'll be with you in a minute," Malone said to the officer, before turning to Carla, "Is there someplace we can talk?"

Carla nodded, "yeah come inside," she beckoned towards the factory, before turning Nick with her, "you and all!" she ordered him, "get some ice put on that," she gestured towards his hand, as Malone went to speak to the officer at the car.

"Carla!" Peter's voice rang out, and she turned to see him running up the loading bay, his eyes falling on the back of the cop car where Frank sat glaring

"I saw the coppers come up the street and pull in here, "what's happened?" he cupped Carla's face in his hands, checking her over for any injuries

"I'm fine, Peter, Frank was being his usual charming self, and Rocky 'ere ended up walloping him."

"So hang on," Peter stepped back, "if you hit him, why is _he_ in the back of the cop car?"

"He's been arrested for assault and attempted rape," Carla said in a low voice, her eyes not removing themselves from Frank's through the window of the car

"Of who?" Peter asked

"Me, apparently." She mumbled, still thoroughly confused her eyes following Malone as she spoke to the officer, "do you think they found something in the flat?"

"I don't know, love," Peter responded

"Take him to the station, I'll meet you down there," Malone stated hitting the top of the car twice, and stepped away from the vehicle,

"but I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

Peter pulled Carla into his side, his arm hugging her body to his protectively, as they watched the police car drive off. He turned briefly, his eyes meeting Nick's and nodding appreciatively, "Thank you,"

"Don't mention it," Nick responded, rubbing his sore hand, "I know I've made some digs about it in the past, but I'm really starting to appreciate your self-control, Peter."

"Was that a compliment, Tilsley?"

"Don't get used to it, Barlow."

"Shall we?" Malone asked, as she stepped in front of Carla

"Yeah, come on," Carla swallowed before turning around and heading up the steps to the factory.

* * *

"I don't understand," Carla rubbed her fingers along her browline, "I didn't submit to a rape kit, so how do you know he tried to rape me in the flat?"

"Well you tell me, Mrs Connor," Malone answered, her eyebrow raising slightly, "after all you're the only one who knows what happened."

"Do I?" Carla threw back agitatedly

"Well it was you who tipped off the papers, wasn't it?" Malone tossed a copy of The Weatherfield Gazette on the desk in front of them

"Eh?" Carla's brows furrowed as she grasped at the paper, scanning the page that Malone had it turned to, as she, Peter, Nick and Michelle all leaned in to look

**New Evidence Arises in Knicker Factory Rape Case? **

_Frank John Foster has admitted to his accuser - business partner and ex-fiancee - Carla Connor, that he raped her_

_"I raped you," he allegedly told her, "Does that make you feel better?" Before attempting to rape her once more_

_But with the courts having found him not guilty last month, and being unable to charge him for the same crime twice,_

_without new evidence, is this confession enough to at least put his victim's mind at peace?_

_The Gazette reached out to the Weatherfield Police for comment, and were told by investigating officer DC Malone, _

_that they take these cases very seriously and that they will be following up on the alleged confession_

"What I don't understand, Mrs. Connor, is why you didn't mention this confession to the police when Mr Foster allegedly attacked you in the flat a few nights ago? Why did you withhold this simply to go to the papers?"

"I didn't go to the papers," Carla responded, her mind still in a daze as she stared at the words on the page that seemed to rise off the paper and hover in front of her eyes, _"I raped you," he allegedly told her, "Does that make you feel better?"_

"Mrs. Connor you didn't mention it was Mr Foster at all who accosted you in the flat, it was Mr Barlow who alleges it was he, so we have no statement from you whatsoever regarding Mr Foster's alleged confession, but we do have a witness who states that a flat key resembling yours was made for Mr Foster, and we have an eye witness who places him outside the Bookies flat the night in question."

"Who?" Peter asked her

"All in due time, Mr Barlow," Malone responded, her eyes firmly on Carla, "Mrs Connor, is this story you told the press about his alleged confession, true?"

"I said, I didn't go to the press," Carla gritted out, her eyes finally raising to meet the officer's, "he didn't confess to me in the flat..."

"So there was no confession?"

"Oh there was, yeah," Carla said, "but it weren't at the flat."

"What do you mean?" Malone pressed

"It were here...earlier that night. He admitted it to me that he raped me and he tried to do it again, but..." her eyes widened suddenly

"What is it, Mrs Connor?" Malone asked

"A noise," Carla said, as if remembering for the first time, "he had me pinned against the railing and he was reaching down my body asking if I fancied going for the hat trick, when I heard something down below. It must of startled him and all because I was able to finally break free from him and leg it."

"What are you saying?" Peter asked her

"Someone was here, Peter." Carla said, a combination of relief and anger darting across her features, "someone heard him confess..."


End file.
